Hold on, I'm coming
by SheyRicci
Summary: Clay goes on a camping trip...
1. Chapter 1

I just can't stop!

* * *

Jason glanced up without moving his head. The five men of his immediate team stood shoulder to shoulder in front of him, all looking somewhere but at him. Oh boy, this wasn't going to be good.

Someone had done something, they were all in on it and they were here to 'fess up.

"What did you do?" Jason paused, fork halfway to his mouth. Christ, couldn't even eat breakfast in peace. He really didn't need this now. Or ever. But, especially now. They were four days from flying out and he wanted off this base and out of this country. God, he hated this constant damp, misty weather.

They had to come admit to mischief now? Really? At breakfast?

He'd been looking forward to these pancakes for the last twenty-four hours. Laying sprawled flat on his stomach for over eight of those hours had convinced him a very high stack of flapjacks was acceptable. Hey, it was lite or low-calorie or reduced sugar – maybe sugar free, maple syrup, so that made his indulgence balance out, right? Like drinking a diet coke with a burger. Snark.

Feet shuffled, arms crossed and uncrossed, heads moved, eyes roamed, but no one spoke up or made eye contact.

"Ray?" Jason said finally.

Ray stared at the floor. This was his fault. Mostly.

He'd gone out to the bar with the rest of Bravo, including most from their support team after Jason had decided to stay in, so he'd been in charge of keeping everyone in line. Yes, the bar had been off base. Yes, he knew Charlie was in country. Yes, he knew Beau and Jason didn't get along, would never get along. Yes, he knew Bravo was due to fly out and head to Iraq and Charlie would assume responsibilities here. Yup, he knew all that and more. Didn't help though, he'd still done what he'd done.

Brock spoke first.

"We, ah, played a game of darts." Brock stared at the ceiling, the dog had bee-lined straight to Jason, sat next to him, tongue out and Brock was a bit embarrassed over that. No doubt Cerberus was going to side with Jason on this.

"And we lost." Sonny stared at the wall.

Jason munched on bacon, reached for his coffee. His first thought was there'd been a fight. But no, all five of his immediate team was right there in plain sight – even Clay, so they hadn't lost him – and no one sported a black eye or busted lip.

"I'm guessing there was a bet on the outcome of this game." Jason chewed and swallowed. Suddenly, his pancakes weren't so appealing anymore. The dog put his snout on Jason's knee and Jason reached to give his ears a scratch.

"There was." Trent stared out the door.

Jason shrugged. Nothing uncommon. Teams competed with and against one another all the time. So, his team was on the hook for a round of drinks, or would have to run hills for whoever they played against. Eh.

"Anything else?" Jason asked. No one except the dog would look at him. His gaze settled on Clay, who looked…..well, either amused or disgusted. It was hard to tell sometimes with that freaking bushy beard. Jason was going to have to tell the kid to trim it up. "What'd you volunteer us for?"

"Uh." Ray rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, boss, you see."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Jason sighed. He couldn't be too angry. It had been a hard week on the guys. They'd been under 'barracks arrest' for the last week for disobeying orders on a mission, Jason included. No access to emails, computers, or phones. No one had talked to the wife, the girlfriend, the kids, seen glimpses of home via Skype in over a week.

"Nothing too bad." Brock said quickly. "Just…well…uh."

"Okay, let's start with something easier." Jason ate more bacon. "Who did you lose to?"

"Charlie." Trent confessed.

Jason cursed, tossing down his fork that he'd just picked back up. "Beau? You fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry boss." Ray finally raised his head to meet Jason's eyes. "It, uh, didn't go the way we thought."

"No shit. How did you lose darts to Charlie?"

"There was this waitress…" Sonny began but Jason's palm went up, cutting him off. Always a skirt with Sonny.

"What did we lose to them?"

"Yeah, see…..not what." Trent rubbed his neck. "More like…."

Oh, this wasn't happening. It just wasn't. Jason looked at his plate, swirled a piece of bacon around the maple syrup. Thought about throwing it in a fit, but no…..no that wouldn't do.

"What. Did. You. Do."

Silence.

Jason lowered his head, thumbed his eyes closed, elbows on table, hands clasped. And he knew.

"You lost Spencer in a bet." He said finally. God, he really _was_ going to fling the plate to the floor. Coffee cup right along with it. "To Beau Fuller's team."

"Now why would you just assume it was blondie here they won?" Sonny spoke up, tone teasing, hoping to soothe Jason's ruffled feathers by playing it all off as a joke.

"Because we _always_ lose him. Doesn't matter how we do it, how it happens, it always happens." Jason dug deep for control, a battle he was losing. "You _took_ that fucking bet?"

"Not the time Quinn." Ray said quietly. The guys didn't know the entire history behind the animosity between Beau and Jason. Hell, he didn't know all of it either. "Boss, I'm sorry. We bet one of us for one of them, we thought they'd choose me."

"How the fuck did you lose?" Jason's fist hit the table. "Why would you even make _that_ bet?" His mind was already working. Bravo always honored their debts. He'd have to get with Eric, find out what missions Charlie was assigned until Bravo left. "We don't leave for four days…how many missions did you promise them?"

"All of them." Ray admitted.

So, at least three.

They were on a month long deployment, searching for one man who was recruiting members for a religious sect that was gaining wide-spread control, hoping to find him and put an end to his reign of authority before he managed to join forces with someone such as ISIS, the Taliban, Al Qaeda.

"You lost him in a bet." Jason repeated, shaking his head. This couldn't be happening. He could go to Eric, demand they fly out early, tell Beau he didn't authorize the bet, wasn't going to honor the debt…both would work, but neither would do their reputation or image any good. What was more important?

"We didn't bet Spencer." Trent corrected. "We bet one of us."

"But you agreed to let them choose." Jason snapped. "The hell were you thinking?"

"I'm okay with it." Clay said. What else could he say? He'd been there, hadn't tried to talk Ray or Sonny out of the making the bet. To object now would be rolling his teammates under a huge old bus.

"Well, I'm not." Jason pushed his plate away. "Christ Ray, what the fuck? You had to know Beau would go for Spenser just to piss me off!" Clay's willingness to go stumped him. He couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not. If the kid said he didn't want to go, Jason wouldn't make him. But, to say he was okay with it? Huh.

"We _thought_ they'd go for our sniper." Sonny said. "I think they cheated."

"Of course they did." Jason agreed. He was gaining control, able to think more clearly. He had to talk to Eric. "But fairly, get a couple shots of vodka in you, have a piece of ass walk by and you can't even hit the dart-board, let alone dead center."

Sonny looked abashed, blushed, so true.

"And you," Jason pointed at Ray. "Know better than to make a bet and not name the stakes. You gave them the _option_ to _choose_?"

"We didn't think…..I mean, any team we've ever played – and we've lost before – always chooses Ray." Brock spoke up in defense of their second-in-command. "Our sniper."

"What do you call him?" Jason pointed at Clay with a piece of bacon, then flung it aside. "You guys gotta be smarter than this if you're going to keep him." He sighed, too tired to give them the tongue-lashing they all deserved. What's done was done. "We have more than one sniper and despite our efforts to keep shit quiet, rumors get out."

"Uh, keep me?" Clay said, confused. "Come again?"

"He's just starting to settle in, getting to know us, our ways, and now, he's going to run with another Chief." Jason stood up. "Good luck with that kid. Don't you dare come back hurt." He collected his tray, gave the dog a final pat. "Just make sure you come back, if I hafta come after you, someone's gonna pay in blood."

Jason walked away.

Cerberus gave them a; I-can't-believe-you-just-did-what-you-did-look, shook his head and trotted after Jason.

Clay rubbed the back of his neck, he needed a haircut. There wasn't any doubt Jason wouldn't fetch him if he needed fetching. That knowledge made him feel good but he didn't like thinking his team always planned to have to retrieve him.

"I swear Brock, that damn dog understands everything fucking thing that goes on around here." Sonny sat down at the table Jason had just left. "He judges, you know that?"

"The upside?" Trent sat down as well. "Beau wanted Clay. Now he'll have him, if only for a few days."

"Say what?" Clay looked between all four of his teammates. "How is that an upside?"

"Kid, you're high maintenance." Ray grinned. "Hey, send someone high, I'm glad it's you. You have our backs and Bless you for it, but you have a knack for finding trouble. Let Charlie deal with it for a week."

"Four days." Trent corrected.

Ray's grin faded and he looked away as his stomach coiled into the same knot Jason's always did. Clay running with Charlie meant he'd be out of Bravo's sight, away from their protection. Charlie wouldn't know how to look out for him or why they should. And Bravo couldn't tell them. One, Beau would blow them off. Two, any rumors floating around would be confirmed. Three, other teams didn't need to know how Bravo operated.

"See how cocky Mr. Stick-up-my-ass is after running with the kid for a mission." Brock grinned. "Just, uh, Clay, I know you've run under other Chiefs and leaders on Green Team in Afghanistan, and you led some of those missions, but now you know how different a Tier One Team operates, and Beau ain't nothing like our Boss, you watch yourself, you hear?"

"I bet ole Fuller returns him after their first job out." Sonny cracked. "What say you? I say it's his mouth."

"His habit of bucking authority." Brock said.

"Questioning the boss." Trent added.

"Arguing his case." Ray stared after Jason.

"I'm right here." Clay rolled his eyes. Yeah, maybe seeing how another Tier One Team operated wasn't a bad idea. Yeah, sure, Bravo Team was close, but wasn't every team? Guess he'd find out. "Can hear, you know."

"Will Eric clear it?" Trent asked after a moment.

"Not if Jason doesn't want him to." Ray said, sitting down. "I wouldn't put it pass Beau to claim we threw the game to sneak a spy onto his team."

"Then why pick Spenser?" Sonny asked.

"Why offer that bet?" Trent corrected.

"But, since we are putting a man on his team…." Brock paused. "Wouldn't hurt to know how they run."

"But not at your expense." Ray added. "Don't do anything stupid just to find out something."

"I don't have any idea what you guys are even talking about." Clay said.

Sonny kicked a chair out. "Have a seat youngster. You have some training to go through."

()

"I'm sure Charlie set the whole thing up." Eric told Jason, holding the punching bag as Jason pummeled it. "Not the bet itself, just the outcome. Vodka, women in skirts, Sonny, don't mix."

"But Clay?" Jason hugged the bag, taking a moment to catch his breath. "What the hell's the matter with Ray? Sure, make the bet, play for stakes, but name your man."

"Why would he think anyone would want Clay?"

"Everyone wants him." A hard left jab knocked Eric back a step. "How many requests do you get asking to have him for a mission? Every single Tier One and Two team out there is on a list for that kid if I ever kick him off or he requests a transfer."

"He wouldn't do that." Eric said hastily. "And they want him because of the languages he can speak. He wasn't well liked in training for DEVGRU, remember? Hell, Adam said the guys he was training with nearly voted him out, wanted him dropped from training."

"He has talent, skills, come on Eric." Jason landed another hard, solid punch. "We've been kicking that attitude outta of him for months. We did the work, we're damn well gonna reap the benefits."

"What are you so pissed about?" Eric asked, stepping around the bag and forcing Jason to pull his punch. "Letting him out of your sight, or that he might like running with Charlie better?"

"Say that again." He used his teeth to tug on the tape around his hands.

"He's never known another Chief." Eric said. "Bravo is all he knows and running on a Tier One team is nothing like missions as a Seal."

"He's what? 23? 25? He doesn't get to know another team until he's put his time in here." Jason let Eric unbound his hands. "Half of me wants to demand you get us out of here, take him with us. Part of me wants to go to Beau and inform him I didn't authorize this, the bet's off, they can't have him."

Eric slowly broke into a grin. "And the remaining part that won?"

Jason matched his grin. "I trust that kid to keep his mouth shut on how we do things. I know that's why Beau chose him. So let him have the deep-seated fear in his gut when they can't immediately locate that kid or he comes up with a limp or he goes off all half-cocked on some daring, stupid stunt."

"You wish that on him?" Eric tossed the balled up tape into a trash can.

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Get a shower, we'll go grab lunch."

But Jason sat down on a bench to unlace his sneakers. "They got any dangerous missions coming up?"

"There is always the potential for any job, any mission to turn dangerous." Eric set a water bottle on the bench beside his team's Chief. "But no, Bravo is headed to town, Charlies is headed into the forest. They have coordinates to follow, a drone picked up suspicious activity at what might be a camp but is probably a village, recon only. If they find anything, they are not to engage. They are there to gather information and return. If it turns out to be a holdout or hideaway, we will then plan accordingly."

"Day trip?"

"Couple nights." He saw right away that Jason did not like hearing that. "Jason?"

"A couple of hours is one thing." Jason finished the water and tossed the empty bottle into a recycling bin. "He'd be back for dinner."

"And you could see for yourself he's okay." Eric nodded. "We will be in communication the entire time."

"Command for Charlie will, we won't."

"It's not uncommon for a Commander to pop in to command every so often when one of their team is on a run with another team."

Jason nodded. "Eric, you know him. Know what that kid is capable of getting himself into….."

"You want me to pull the plug on this whole stunt?" Eric would do it without hesitation. He'd take the heat so Bravo could save face.

"I do." Jason stood up, picked up his bag. "But I won't ask you to do it. The kid's okay with going, we lost the bet, Beau's a dick but he's not going to use and abuse the kid to stick it to me."

"They will look out for him Jason."

"But they won't know what to look for."

***000***

His team, Lisa, Eric and Jason included, stood around while he packed. No one could keep their suggestions and advice to themselves. Extra socks, power bars, water, insect repellent, sting-eaze, calamine lotion, eye-drops, flash-light, batteries, knife, scissors, ammo, watch, compass, tinted goggles, binoculars, scope; don't shit in poison ivy, look for snakes, ant-hills, recon the camp site from up high, sleep out in the open, keep your back to a tree, drink water above where you bathe, don't tie your boots too tight, keep them on while you sleep…..all kinds of crazy ass shit.

Clay walked out.

He knew they meant well, were sheepish they'd lost him in a bet, were subdued because Jason still wasn't talking to them, but good grief! He knew how to pack, what to pack. He was going away for ONE night! Maybe two. He had a sat phone from Lisa - wasn't Charlie going love to that - they'd be able to reach him any time they wanted to.

"Hey," Trent reached for his backpack, unzipped a zipper on a side pocket. "You get hurt, only let them give you morphine." He showed Clay the grey pouch with a fat red cross on it. "Everything in here is safe for you to take."

Clay blinked, then nodded, catching his grin. Awww…..gruff ole Trent had a soft spot. Huh, his first mission without Brian or Trent. He frowned as Trent gave his shoulder a pat and moved off.

Jason stared at Beau, ignoring his smirk. "Look after him."

"You admitting your rookie isn't all he's cracked up to be?" Beau taunted. "His first night at a sleep-over and he's away from his big brothers? Gonna miss his daddy?"

"I'm saying if we have to come get him, Sonny will be off leash." Jason cocked his head, arms crossed over his chest.

Beau looked over at Sonny, who bared his teeth and growled. Cerberus bared his teeth and growled.

"I honestly didn't think you'd let him go with us." Beau took the warning as it was meant.

"You've never had a rookie," Jason said quietly. "He's young, he's stupid, he's still learning. Take this seriously and don't let anything happen to him."

Beau let his gaze go past Sonny to Ray, Brock, and Trent. No one looked friendly. Eric and Lisa simply stared back at him. Geesch, the man he was taking from Bravo was a trained Tier One operative. And yes, he was a man – not a kid.

"He has his own medical kit." Trent informed Beau, coming to stand behind Jason. "He has allergies, don't just give him anything, he gets hurt."

"Cerberus is trained for explosives." Brock had come with Trent. "But you lose him, you call us. He can track any of us."

"You boys have fun now." Sonny said cheerfully, beaming like a proud papa sending his son off to camp. "He gets sick on red Gatorade, keep him on water."

Beau didn't mistake Sonny's demeanor for friendliness. Hell, even Davis looked like she'd kick him in the crotch, he returned Spenser with so much as a bruise. Didn't matter what Bravo thought. The only two who could make his life hell were Hayes and Blackburn…..speaking of who…..was right here. Beau frowned. Charlie's Commander was nowhere around, why would he be?

Maybe taking off with Bravo's young rookie wasn't such a good idea after all. He was nudged in the back by one of his men and when he turned to look, he saw Bravo support standing in lines of five, staring him down. So, not just Bravo elite would kick his ass if anything happened to the kid.

"Don't be too hard on him." Ray grinned. "We're still breaking him in, don't go and ruin all our hard work." He gave Beau a fist bump in the bicep. "Just make sure you bring him back."

"Why wouldn't I?" Beau frowned. Man, this was not what he expected when he'd gleefully won the bet and decided taking Spencer over Ray would piss Jason off more.

"He gets captured…" Sonny began,

"Kidnapped…" Brock added,

"Taken hostage…" Trent said,

"Somehow goes missing…" Lisa said,

"You go and you get him back." Ray finished.

Beau was about to say; 'we will assess the situation and call in to report, a search and rescue team will be deployed and we will finish our mission' but seven, uh, make that twenty-two unfriendly faces promised severe retribution if he didn't agree, so he nodded.

Jason wasn't convinced Beau understood what his men were saying. "We fly out in four days and we aren't leaving this god forsaken aquarium without him. You get him back here in time for him to leave with us, we clear?"

"Yeah, Hayes. I got it. Don't leave your baby-boy behind. For Christ Sake, we're hiking into a mountain to set up watch on a camp or village that is probably local farmers." He hid his surprise over Hayes's confidence that if he didn't want his team to leave without being able to take Spenser with them, they wouldn't go. Sure, Hayes was a Master Chief but even they didn't have that kind of authority. He side-eyed Blackburn, hmmmmm, Commanders did though.

Jason hitched a shoulder. "Probably is what I don't like."

"Come on guys!" Lisa called. "Breakfast, good luck Clay!"

Beau watched in disbelief as five of the best trained Seals in the world fell in line, joking and teasing with one another, behind a petite, pony-tailed woman and followed her to breakfast. Once they passed, Bravo support broke ranks and fell in behind.

Wow.

Eric followed Clay as he walked towards the transport that would take Charlie to the hiking trail. ATV's and choppers were out, would ruin the element of surprise. They wanted to sneak in, observe and ascertain whether the camp was a danger and needed to be routed.

"Spenser?" he called. "A moment."

Clay stopped with a sigh, set his backpack on the ground by his feet and turned to face Eric. Now what?

"Be careful out there." Eric said. "The guys are feeling guilty, doesn't matter if you're okay with going, they feel bad they let Jason down, lost you in a bet and put Jason in a difficult position by being a man down on Bravo's missions. Just, take care of yourself."

Clay nodded. He hadn't thought of any of this that way. He thought about himself. He was eager to go, wanted to see how other teams operated. Yeah, he expected they'd be hard on him, would tease him, play a joke on him, pull a prank or two but he could handle it. 'Cause come on, who could be worse than Sonny?

Eric nodded back. "Just so you know, this goes South, Bravo's on that mountain coming to get you."

Awww, that made him all warm and fuzzy. He tried to not to blush, but yeah, even his ears turned red. Eric hadn't said Bravo would come after Charlie, he'd said 'you'.

"Don't let them use and abuse you. You only have to follow Beau's orders in regards to the mission. He orders you to do anything that is out of line, you don't have to obey him. Just think what Jason would do and stand your ground." Eric slapped Clay's shoulder and waved him on. "You need us, you call us, got me? Speed dials 1, 2, and 3."

Clay nodded, didn't need to be told who was on those numbers; Jason, Eric, Ray. Chances were, he hit any number 1 through 0 and he would connect with someone.

"If we aren't back before they fly out, I'll join them?" Clay asked. "Or fly home? This is our last mission, Iraq, right?"

"It is and no, they won't leave here until they can take you with them." Eric said after a moment. "Call in a time or two, set an old man's mind at ease." He didn't add that the reason Bravo wouldn't fly out and leave him behind was because it would mean Bravo was hiking up a mountain after his ass because the op had gone south. "Been many years since I've sent a rookie off with another chief."

"Roger that."


	2. Chapter 2

Huh, Clay thought, as the armored extended Jeep got underway, not at all what he expected: No one spoke. They sat in their seats, stared straight ahead, didn't move, did nothing.

During transport with Bravo and Alpha, the team Bravo most often ran with, everyone talked, joked, hell, even sang. Games were played to pass the time, stories were told, missions remembered, old times recalled, the rookie – him – teased, but now…..yeah….not a peep.

"Is this, uh, how you guys…um, travel?" Clay asked the man closest to him. He felt the need to whisper, like he was speaking behind the teachers back. "Always like this?"

Chase Barret, he thought the man's name was. He'd been introduced to them all, but by name only. He didn't know who did what on the team or their specialties. That information hadn't been offered and when Clay had asked, he'd been shut down by Beau. All he knew is what Jason had told him; Beau was Senior Chief, not Master and 2nd in command was Mick.

"How?" Chase repeated. "By armored jeep? We take whatever the base has to transport us. If we run with Delta or with more men, we'll take a bus."

"Yeah, no, I meant…..eh, never mind." He saw the startled looks around him and stared out the window. God, this was awful. All the silence made it easy to wonder and worry about what was ahead, what might happen. Made it easy to remember a mission gone bad and question what could have been done differently to change the outcome. He didn't like traveling in silence at all.

 _Bravo one, Charlie, zero._

The ride was over an hour, so Clay pulled out his earbuds, thumbed his archaic MP3 player to shuffle and laid his head back. He soon became aware he was under an intense stare and opened his eyes to find Beau glaring daggers at him. So, music was a no-no too. Well, tough. Unless Beau outright ordered him to remove the earbuds and put them away, he wasn't going to.

Had anyone bothered to talk to help the ride go by, Clay never would have played music to begin with.

The entire ride passed in silence. They reached their destination, left the jeep, fell into line behind Beau and started hiking. Clay stared after them. No discussion which way to take, how to go, who should go where. No talk about whether to go with guns armed and ready. No talk about who leads, who brings up the rear, who scouts ahead….nothing.

 _Bravo two, Charlie, zero._

He hadn't been told how far they were hiking, when they'd be stopping for the night, whether or not they'd reach their destination today or tonight or tomorrow…..he knew nothing and he didn't like it one bit.

 _Bravo three, Charlie, zero._

"What are we doing?" Clay asked Chase, catching up to keep in step side-by-side with the man.

"Hiking up to the coordinates that…"

"No, I get that. I mean, who's scouting?"

"Who's doing what?"

"Scouting ahead." Clay repeated. "You know, jog ahead? Report back?"

Chase just shook his head.

"How far are we hiking?"

"Until we reach the perimeter of our destination."

"But….when do you scout for a location to camp? Set it up? Secure it?"

Chase shook his head. "That's on our Chief."

"But….." Clay frowned. "How do you know this is the best way to go? When do you all study the map?"

"What map?"

"The map." Clay made folding and unfolding motions with both hands. "To know the area."

"We don't use paper maps." Chase gave him an odd look. "We have GPS and coordinates."

"Well, yeah, but what happens if satellite goes out?"

"We wait."

"Out here in the open, blind? Coordinates don't tell you what is around you."

"We have comms."

Clay was beginning to understand what part of Jason's problem with Beau was. Who the hell led and ran ops like this?

 _Fuck that shit; Bravo four, five and six, Charlie, zero._

"So, you just keep your mouth shut and follow without knowing what's going on?" Clay asked incredulously. "Where you're going? Who's doing what?"

"We're told what we need to know when we need to know it."

"But….there are six of you! You just march single file? You don't spread out, scout, decide when to camp, settle on where? Secure it? Send your sniper high?"

Chase came to a stop and looked at him. "No," and he moved off.

"Well, fuck that shit." Clay muttered. He shook his head in disbelief and fell in line.

Beau was unaware of Clay's unease over how he led his men and Chase didn't speak up and say anything. They continued to march up the trail, single-file, no one speaking until Clay finally had had enough.

"Yo." Clay moved past the men until he reached Beau's side. "We've been hiking over four hours. Time for a break."

Beau pulled up. His men came to a stop behind him, unsure and uncertain what was going on or what to do.

"Come again Spenser?"

"I didn't stutter." Clay retorted. "Do all men your age have a hearing problem?"

"Oh, I have a problem, but it has nothing to do with my hearing." Beau countered. "Let's start with your attitude. Did you just order a break?" Really? Shit from this little punk-ass rookie? Hayes put up with this? Oh hell no, Beau didn't think so.

"I said it was time for one. Four hours mandates break for water and food."

"Since when does Jason Hayes go by the book?" Beau snickered. "Never heard anyone say that."

"You're hearing it now. When we're hiking uphill carrying over 50 pounds on our backs, yeah, he does."

 _Bravo….ah, hell, I lost count, but damn…Charlie, sucks._

Beau whistled. The kid had balls. He sure as hell wasn't backing down. No man on his team would speak to him like this.

"Too much for you, mamma's boy?" Beau cooed. "Guys, do you hear Bravo's rookie? Says we need a rest."

"Wanna race Beau?" Clay challenged. "See who makes it the farthest? I bet I outlast you. I don't get distracted like Sonny does." Low blow, basically calling Charlie out on a fair way of cheating.

"You call me Chief." Beau said stiffly. Oh this cocky little piss-ant was begging for an ass-kicking. He should order the mouthy little prick to run the rest of the way.

"You're not my Chief."

"I'm not your boss." Beau corrected. "I am your chief on this mission."

Clay shrugged. "You are leading this mission, so that makes you my leader." He pulled a bottle of water out of a pocket on his thigh, a power bar out of another. "We don't know what we're walking into. We don't know how much further we have to go because you haven't told us anything. I'm not walking blindly into any possible scenario, thirsty, tired and disoriented because we made haste to get there."

Mick shifted his weight uneasily. The other men looked away.

Clay sat down on a fallen tree. "Ten minutes. Go on, I'll catch up."

Beau fumed, but rules stated no man was left behind on a hike. Of all things Beau didn't want to do in his life time, standing before Jason Hayes and admitting he hadn't returned with Bravo's rookie was top of that list.

"Seven minutes." Beau allowed.

Mick, second in command, followed Beau when he moved off. "Kid's young Boss." Mick said easily. "Remember when Hayes didn't outright admit he was taking the kid and we looked into the possibility of being able to get him? How everyone talked about him when he was training on Green Team? He's cocky as shit."

"Hayes wouldn't put up with that." Beau countered. "No way."

"I don't know Hayes." Mick admitted. "But the kid's what, 24? If that? He's got a lot to learn, you've never had a rookie and no one that young ever joined us."

"Doesn't matter. He spoke out of turn."

"Yeah, he did, and if were yours, he'd be running hills and scrubbing toilets. Hell, he'd be dropping and giving you 20 every time he opened his mouth." Mick paused. "But he isn't yours and he isn't officially assigned to Charlie. Like it or not, he is still under Hayes's command."

"Doesn't give him the right to act and talk like a punk-ass."

Mick nodded. "True." He greedily drank some water. He'd been about to bring up to Beau that they needed to stop for a rest, when Clay beat him to it. Kid really did have balls. "Can't push the guys like this." And there was no reason to.

"Lost track of time."

"What's on your mind?"

"Hayes." Beau capped his bottle of water and returned it to a pocket. "And why he let that kid come."

"Kid hasn't run with any other team, has he?"

Beau thought about it. "Not that I know of, no." he shrugged. "Alpha."

"Sure as hell ain't ever gonna be Delta." Mick snorted. "You think you don't get along with Hayes? Can't be Alpha, Hayes runs that team when they're on missions together."

"Sonofabitch." Beau breathed. "He's using me as a guinea pig, letting that kid test the waters."

Mick slapped his shoulder. "Welcome to being schooled by Hayes."

Beau was furious. Damn Hayes! Here, he'd thought he was sticking it to Hayes by taking Bravo's rookie out on a mission, when in reality, now that he thought about it…it was a bet made in a bar over alcohol. Hayes was under no obligation to honor it. And if Hayes hadn't wanted to let the kid go, Blackburn would have put a stop to it.

Beau sighed. Well, okay then.

()

Clay and the rest of the men finally learned more of 'the plan' when Beau called for a halt and gave the order to set up camp.

"Here?" Clay blurted out. Brock and Cerberus would have already scouted the best location to camp. Anywhere, just wouldn't have been acceptable. "Just like that? You just decide to stop walking and say, 'eh, here's good'?"

"Something to say Spenser?" Beau sighed, the kid was wearing him out. He'd yet to stop talking, or complaining, or questioning every, little thing.

"What is the advantage of picking here? Is there a weakness? How far away is fresh water? Do we have an overhang? Where is the nearest rock cropping for cover? Can we cook? Is there ample, dry fire wood? Who takes first watch? Did we clear the grounds of ant hills, snakes, poison ivy?" he smacked his forehead with a groan…..all the words of advice Bravo had given him while he packed. God Damn Them!

"Do you guys camp a lot?" Chase asked.

Clay stared at him, mouth open to answer when Brock's gentle reminder to keep their shit to himself jangled in his ear. Yeah, they probably camped more than most teams….not because they had to, but because they wanted to…..more than once, either at home on a clear night, with and without wives and girlfriends, or on a mission when it was a recon job, they lugged sleeping bags along, selected a site….lit a fire…just enjoyed an easy night.

"Don't we all?" he finally said. "Isn't your sniper going high? Scout with a scope? Where's this camp we're heading to? Are we close enough they'll smell smoke?"

"You wanna go high? Pick a tree." Beau waved his arm. "Where would you like to perch, oh-great-Spenser?"

"I wouldn't set up camp here." Clay missed the sarcasm, so annoyed was he over Beau's choice of campsite.

"Tell you what." Beau had had enough. "Let me remind you, this is not Bravo, I am not Hayes and you don't get to question my choices or doubt my ability to lead. In other words, you don't get a say in this Spenser."

"I don't like this site." Clay insisted. "We need a map."

"It's not your decision."

"Map?" Mick echoed. "What map?"

Clay ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "A fucking map! Made out of paper! Davis always…." He caught himself, damn, keep your mouth shut, you dumbass. "Don't you ask your men? Get their opinions? See what they think? You know, someone might have a better idea or suggestion than what you thought of."

"Whoa! Okay there, you." Mick stepped between Clay and Beau before anything further could be said. "Come on, let's go scout out that higher location you're so eager to find. Let the guys set up camp."

"Not a good idea to do it here." Clay muttered but followed Mick. "Too many unknowns. Can't believe you don't have a map."

"Enough with the map." Mick shook his head. "So, how do you like being a Tier One operator?" he asked, letting Clay take lead, curious to see where the younger man would chose to stake out his position to scout the area.

"Different than I expected." Clay steadily climbed a steep embankment, using jutting rocks, tufts of weeds and grass as hand-holds. "Faster. More thought and planning and decision making. A lot of sitting around waiting to be green-lit."

Now, that there just didn't make no sense. They didn't even go on missions until the op was green-lit.

Mick let it go, he didn't have the breath to keep talking. He tried not to pant, but damn, climbing this way at this pace was physically exhausting. Rumors that Hayes's men were in tip-top shape and liked to run were not exaggerated. Kid had yet to lose his breath and he climbed with his backpack on his back. Mick had left his at the campsite.

"Being away from home is harder than I thought." Clay continued, pulling himself up to a rock overhang with just shoulder strength until he could brace his weight on his knee. He didn't attempt to swing his feet up to help boost himself up and over like Mick did. He gained firm ground and extended a hand to help Mick swing up next to him. "Not just family, but the ease and convenience of everything. Grass, maple trees, little things, you know?" he pulled binoculars from a pocket and went flat on his stomach. "Indoor plumbing."

"Tell me why you don't like where Beau decided to sleep tonight." Mick moved a bit slower, but soon joined Clay on his belly. No way was he going to pant like an old man.

"Already did." Clay was zooming in on the men below. "Don't know what's on the other side of that copse of trees. We go tromping off for privacy, could fall into a ravine…"

"Or off a cliff." Mick muttered and picked a walkie-talkie off his vest strap. "Charlie One, over."

"What the hell is that?" Clay laughed. "Their range is what, like a hundred yards or something? Not a toy, is it?" It sure as hell didn't look military grade to him. Lisa would be insulted they requested walkie-talkies and Ray would pout if he was expected to clean and maintain them.

"You got something better?" Mick teased.

"Well, hell yeah." he almost blurted out he had a sat phone but caught himself. "We just use our comms." He finished lamely, earning a look from Mick that said the older man didn't believe him.

"Go ahead Charlie two." The walkie finally squawked, the feedback cackling with static.

"Do not go more than 10 steps north." Mick said. "You're on the edge of a cliff Beau."

"Heyheyhey…..call him back!" Clay yelled. "CALL HIM BACK!" he was on his feet, waving his arms over his head. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "CHASE! GET BACK!"

"Call who…..?" Mick put the walkie down and focused his binoculars where Clay had had his trained. "Oh shit! Beau! It's Chase! Call him back!" he yelled into his walkie, pushing up to his knees. "Beau! Do you read? Beau? Come in!"

Mick heard the yelp as Chase stepped off solid ground, didn't have to see to know what was happening.

"Man over cliff!" he yelled into the walkie before clipping it to his strap. Fastest way down was the same way they'd come up. He turned to give Clay the option to go first only to realize Clay was gone. Mick looked down, saw a cloud of dirt and dust as Clay went down the hill on his heels and ass. The weight of his backpack helped to propel him forward at a fast clip…..so fast Mick was scared he wouldn't be able to stop on his own and would either slam into a tree or keep going right on over the cliff.

"Sonofabitch!" he followed Clay down but at a much safer and slower speed.

Beau heard Chase yell out, but was frowning into his walkie, not sure he'd heard Mick correctly. Man over cliff? What the hell did that even mean? What man? What cliff? Where was a cliff? Chase who? Who needed to be chased over a cliff?

"Jesus Christ." Karl muttered, pointing at Clay's rapid descent down the hill. "Kid have a death wish?"

"What the hell is he doing?" Greg shielded his eyes, looked up to see Mick following. "He fall? Mick ain't never gonna catch him."

"It's like he's surfing on dirt without a surfboard." Bobby said. "Skiing maybe, he's a dumbass to be doing something as stupid as that."

"He's in control." Beau joined his men and slowly, it all dawned on him. "Where's Chase?" he demanded suddenly, spinning in a circle. "BARRET!"

"Stepped out." Karl replied, still watching Clay. "He ain't even trying to slow down."

Beau wasn't paying Clay any attention. "We haven't secured the area." He huffed. Clay free-falling down the hill? Mick coming right behind him? Man over cliff? Chase? "Shit!"

He bolted but was forced to go carefully, not knowing what lay beyond the trees or amid the tall grass and choked bramble that surrounded the clearing they'd meant to set up camp in.

Clay reached the bottom of the hill, beating Beau. Releasing the straps on his backpack and dropping it, he came up from his crouch and gained his feet running. He avoided the trees, running alongside them rather than through them. He came to a stop from a dead run on his knees, skidding to the edge of the cliff he'd seen from above.

Unlike Mick, Clay had seen Chase disappear from sight, so he knew where he'd stepped off solid ground.

At a stop, his knees taking all the abuse and the brunt of his weight, he threw himself forward onto his belly and wormed his weight over the edge. He felt hands grab his ankles and after taking a second to calm his sudden panic over being grabbed, realized it was someone on Charlie grabbing hold to keep him from going over.

"Chase?" Clay yelled, going over, pulling the man holding his feet forward until the only part of Clay on firm ground was his knees and feet. "Gimme your hand!"

Beau was yelling for a rope. Karl and Bobby were scrambling to comply with the order and Greg was hanging onto Clay with a strength he didn't know he possessed. He didn't think the kid weighed so much, he looked so scrawny dressed down.

Mick was crawling up next to Clay who had thrown his weight forward and was ordering Chase to grab his hand. Mick had to make a choice, reach with Clay to hold onto Chase, or help Greg hold onto Clay because once Chase let go of his hold on roots and grass to hold onto Clay, Greg wouldn't be able to hold their combined weight.

Clay surprised him again.

After convincing Chase to trust him, to let go and grab Clay's hand, Clay stopped hanging over the edge and went stomach to dirt, pulling Greg with him and swung his other hand down to grab Chase's other wrist and then, began to belly-squirm backwards, shoulders bearing all of Chase's weight until Chase was able to brace his feet firmly against the rocky cliff side.

Greg grunted and held on, holding the combined weight of two full-grown men by one man's legs. Mick threw his weight onto Clay's feet and with Clay doing most of the pulling, he and Greg were able to steady Clay until Chase's head popped over the cliff, where Bobby, Beau and Karl were able to reach out and grab him by the shoulders.

Once Clay was relieved of Chase's weight, Greg and Mick easily pulled and dragged him back until finally, he was firmly on solid ground.

Clay rolled off his shoulders, flopping onto his back, knees coming up as his heels dug into the dirt.

"You okay?" Mick asked anxiously, crawling on his knees until he was next to the kid. "Spenser? Hey, talk to me."

Clay raised a hand, extended a finger from a clenched fist, asking for a moment to catch his breath. 'Cause right now, he was panting, his chest heaving as his shoulders continued to voice their discontent over holding Chase's weight. His knees quivered, splayed apart, he brought his thighs together, but his knees splayed again.

"Spenser!" Beau barked, flicker of fear igniting low in his belly. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again! Do you hear me? What the hell were you thinking?!"

Clay gulped, tried to hold his breath for control of his breathing, failed. He rolled over, went up on his knees and elbows, rocked forward, hung his head, entire body shaking. Mmmmm, he stung and ached and burned…..everywhere.

"First you try and break you neck coming down the hill like that!" Beau shouted. "Then you throw yourself over a cliff?" So much for returning the kid to Bravo without a bruise or scratch on him, he thought uncharitably. "You call for help, you wait for a rope, you tie off to a tree. Greg couldn't hold your weight on his own. Not when you took on Chase's weight. He'd have lost his hold on you, then what?!"

"Spenser? You gotta talk to me." Mick was saying.

Still fighting through a haze of pain, aching muscles, burning tendons, Clay expected a hand on his shoulder, a pat on the back, Trent in the same position he was so he could see into Clay's face. He never really realized how calming and soothing a simple touch was.

But the reassuring pat never came.

Clay pushed up, rocked back, sat with his ass on his ankles, crawled away, went down on his elbows. The muscles across his back burned but were easing, and finally, his breath allowed him to catch up and he was able to control the panting. Winded, he went down on his right shoulder, laid on his side for a moment, then rolled to his back, dragging his hips across the dirt until his ass was flat on the ground, knees up, feet flat.

 _Okay, I'm thinking, I was fixing your fuck-up and saving your man. First, it was a controlled slide down the hill, we practice. Two, I belly-crawled to the edge of the cliff, I didn't throw myself off or over it. Three, not my job to get a rope, it's my job to hold the situation - which I did. Four, Sonny would never have lost his hold on me, he'd have gone over the cliff with me before he'd ever let me go._

"Wow kid, Jesus." Mick stood over him. "Some stunt there."

No one knelt next to him, no one asked how he was doing, how he felt, if there was something they could do for him. No one teased him, no one offered him a hand up, no one asked what was wrong, what would help, what they could get him. No one told him to breathe through it, fight if off, hang in there.

Finally, the trees overhead stopped spinning and he was able to breathe normally, so he felt it safe to sit up. His head felt clouded, so he just sat, elbows on raised knees, head supported in his hands. A bit stunned, he still expected someone to come over, hand him a bottle of water. Waited for Trent's hand on the back of his neck, the comforting squeeze that always raised goosebumps down his spine.

"You good?" Mick said finally. "We should help the others set up camp."

Clay looked up, forehead resting in his palm, fingers splayed in his hair. "He's staying here." He stated flatly. "No one finished scouting, no idea what's around us." Head rush from hanging pretty much upside down subsiding, the hot flush ebbing away, he was feeling less lightheaded.

"Hill to our backs, water that way." Mick said.

"No shelter against rain, cliff over there." Clay pushed to his feet, hid a wince. "Can we light a fire? Are we approaching the camp to take a look? Where is it from here? Who do you keep high? Who's taking watch? How can you stand not knowing anything?"

Mick gave him a sad look. "That's on Beau and me. You follow orders."

"That's bullshit." He hunched one shoulder, then the other, rotated them backwards, then forward…..sore, but no bursts of pain. So, nothing dislocated, merely strained.

Mick shook his head. "Beau's been really patient with you today," he paused. "You hurt anywhere?"

Clay just looked at Mick, wishing that it was Trent standing there asking that question; the team with him. Trent would offer him an ice pack - hold it for him for a bit, Brock would bring him a beer, Cerberus would lay his head in his lap, Sonny would throw something at him, make sure his reflexes reacted and he could catch, Ray would shake a bottle of aspirin then give him as many as he wanted and Jason would sit nearby and stare at him, shaking his head, giving him all the time he needed to recover.

Charlie? Well, they were rolling out sleeping bags.


	3. Chapter 3

Awww...thanks you guys! You're all the best!

* * *

"This is dinner?" Ray asked Sonny, pushing sweet potato fries to the side of his plate. They were soggy, fries should not be soggy, they should be crisp. "The cook sucks."

Brock plopped his plate onto the table, straddled the bench, sat down and swung his other leg under the table. "So, you think the kid has driven Beau nuts yet? Any word from them?" He moved food around with his fork, settled on the mashed potatoes. "What, no garlic?"

"Eric said Beau called into command. They're set up for the night, were gonna eat then get eyes on the camp." Trent answered. "He hasn't heard from Clay."

"Eat first?" Sonny stabbed a chunk of well, something. "This is green." He studied his fork. "You think this is supposed to be green?" he twisted the fork to look at all sides; up, down and around. "Eh," he shrugged and took a bite. "Bleh, veggie." He chewed and swallowed, took another bite. "Who eats first on an op?"

"Who sets up camp this early?" Brock added. "Hour drive to the hills, six hour hike, okay, yeah, you're hungry, but you get eyes on your target first."

"Oh, he's on Beau's last nerve." Ray laughed. "Bet they didn't even get off transport before Beau wanted to put him through the window."

"How well do you know Beau?" Trent asked avoiding the green chunk of veggie. Sonny reached with his fork, stabbed it, took it, ate it.

Ray shrugged. "By the book."

"We got anything to worry about?" Brock asked.

"With Clay? Don't we always?" Ray joked. "Beau's an ass, but Jason never would have let Clay go with them if he felt Beau wouldn't look out for him."

"Yeah," Trent agreed. "Sure, all rules and protocol and regulation 'look out for him', not the way we look out for him."

"Kid isn't going to be with us his entire career." Ray pointed out. "He's gonna hafta learn to be out there on his own."

"Yeah, well, while he is with us, he's ours to look out for and we'll do it our way." Brock said. "Train him so when he leads his own team, he does it right." he fist bumped Sonny and Trent who held fists out in agreement. "He call in?"

"He won't unless there's trouble." Trent said.

They were all quiet. Clay wouldn't use the sat phone just to call and say hi.

"Eric told him to." Brock said, offering Sonny his green chunk of veggie. "What kind of trouble do you think there'll be?"

"Now, you see," Sonny took the offering. "Been thinking about that…."

Jason sat down with a cup of coffee, Cerberus padded over to sit next to Brock, who scratched his ears.

"Talking about the kid?" Jason asked, seeing the looks his men exchanged with one another.

"Just wondering what he's up to." Trent shrugged. "How crazy he's driven Beau."

"Mmmm." Jason reached for Ray's soggy fries. "I expect Fuller to deck me when they get back."

"A brawl?" Sonny perked up. "Oh, yeah!" he smacked a fist into his palm. "Ground and pound."

Jason rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand not holding the coffee. It would probably come to that and he was in the mood to let it happen.

"We don't expect the kid to call us and say how the weather is, but wasn't he supposed to call Eric?" Ray asked. "Get your own plate."

"I expect to hear from him before they call it a night." Jason answered. "You're not gonna eat these." He fingered another orange stick. "...not carrots. What are they anyway?"

()

"Here." Karl sat down next to Clay. "Bet you're pretty sore." he held his hand out, two pills on his palm. "Water?"

"They're blue." Clay flicked a glance up from the fire. Oh yeah, his shoulder was throbbing. The blue gel pack had given him some relief but it was no longer cold and he didn't want to use another in case he felt worse tomorrow.

He had been ordered to stay at their campsite with Chase while the rest of Charlie went to scout the area, then get eyes on the camp they'd been sent to investigate. Clay hadn't wanted to remain behind, wanted to scout the area, go back up high, get a firm understanding of their surrounding area. Had offered to do so while Charlie went to spy on the camp, but Beau had had a fit. Clay swore smoke had come out of the man's ears. Eh, whatever.

Didn't matter, they weren't gone half an hour and they were back. Clay couldn't believe it, what the hell could they have possibly learned in thirty minutes? One thing Clay had learned was the camp they were sent here to observe was not far away.

"Yeah." Karl's eyes narrowed. "Oh, what, you don't trust me?"

Beau had given permission to light a fire. Clay wasn't too sure about that but Beau didn't like him questioning how far away the camp was, nor did Beau respond when Clay asked what they'd seen, and if they knew anything. Clay decided to let it go for now, figuring they'd soon be heading back to watch for night activity.

"I don't know you." Clay retorted. "What are they?"

"Aleve."

"So, Naproxen?" Clay shook his head. "I can't take that."

"Huh?"

"Trent says…." Clay bit his lip. Wow, watching what he said was harder than he thought. "Gives me leg cramps." He explained. "Calf."

Karl nodded. "Haven't heard that before. Not a common side effect."

"Who's Trent?" Bobby asked.

"Teammate," Clay answered, pushing to his feet. "I have gel-caps."

"Isn't Trent your medic?" Mick asked.

"Thought Bravo was a team of all shooters?" Bobby said. "No medic listed, right?"

"We are."

"Team of six snipers," Greg joined in. "Unofficially. On the books, Ray's _thee_ sniper. Rumor has it though, so are you."

"We can all shoot." Clay pulled out the grey medical pack and rooted through it until he found the bottle of Advil liquid gel-caps. He put the pack back in his bag and sat down with a bottle of red Gatorade. "And Trent's not a medic. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"You're not gonna puke that up, are you?" Mick asked warily. "Go sit over there."

"Do what?" Clay looked around. "What?"

"Quinn said red Gatorade makes you sick." Beau clarified.

Clay cursed. "It doesn't…Jesus Christ, no." He sighed. "I'm never gonna live this down. Sonny's an ass. It doesn't make me sick; hanging me upside down and bouncing me up and down by my feet after drinking a bottle of it - does."

"Why would Quinn do that to you?" Chase asked. "Sounds kinda mean."

"We were back from morning runs." Clay shrugged. Mean? They were horsing around. "Eric's always worried we'll dehydrate. If I have a complaint about Eric, it's that. Always wants us to drink. He's obsessed with it."

"Eric? You mean Blackburn?" Bobby asked. "Your Commander? He was there?"

"You call him Eric?" this from Mick who raised both eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah." Clay was confused. "We were on morning runs."

"He runs with you?" Greg whistled. "Your Commander?"

"Well, yeah." Clay still wasn't getting it. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Hayes is big on making his men run." Beau put in. "Run a lot of hills, don't you?"

"It's exercise." Clay said bewildered. "Yeah, we run. We all run, Jason too. And Eric, Davis, Ellis."

"Who are Davis and Ellis?" Karl asked.

"Quinn hangs you upside down, your Commander was there, and he let it happen?" Mick asked, trying to wrap his head around it all. "Where was Hayes? Didn't he stop it?"

"We were wrestling and…"

"After running?" Chase interrupted. "Why?"

Clay stared at Chase. "Because I beat him and Sonny doesn't like to lose. He'll wrestle, you now, tackle you and he'll tickle when…"

"Wait, what?" Karl waved Clay silent. "Sonny Quinn? Tickle?"

Clay gave up. He returned the bottle of Gatorade Fruit Punch to his backpack and withdrew a bottle of water. "Yeah, red Gatorade makes me sick."

"Time to think about bedding down." Beau said, standing up.

"What?" Clay didn't bother to sit back down. "Go to bed? It's dusk. Who's taking watch on the camp? Who's taking watch on our campsite? Are we doing four or six hour shifts?"

"No one is taking watch." Beau said. "No shifts. Can't see anything at the camp in the dark."

"You have to set watch. It's stupid not to." Clay shook his head in disbelief. "Use night vision binoculars."

"For what?"

"Activity? Arrivals? Departures? Anything!" Did Beau not realize most illegal activity occurred under people's misguided preconception that darkness offered protection? Or did he simply not care?

"Bravo, the team that never sleeps." Bobby teased.

"Bed down." Beau said again. "Don't worry about it."

"What time are we getting up to go watch the camp?" Clay didn't move. "So, one man on watch here, are you sending two or three of us to observe the camp?"

"Why would we set someone on watch?" Beau asked. "No one knows we're out here, there are no known hostiles in the area, we are not expecting an attack."

"You never leave your back unprotected, someone always has your six." Clay insisted. "And yeah, someone knows we're out here. You weren't gone thirty minutes; we hiked to the perimeter of our destination, so that camp is a five minute walk in that direction." He pointed away from the cliff. "They will smell the smoke from the fire. Hell, they can probably see the light from it."

"It's a farm." Beau said finally. "Now let it go."

"You sure about that?" Clay challenged. "What did you see in the 15-20 minutes you bothered to watch?"

"Yeah, I am." Beau was mighty sick of this kid. "We saw enough. Now it's time to bed down."

"What makes you so sure?" Clay asked. "Cause I'm not and I won't be until I see it for myself."

"And how long would you watch?" Beau demanded, patience at end. "Huh, Spencer? How long would you lie on your belly, in the mud, in the rain and watch people leave a house and milk cows?"

"Until I was sure they were doing their daily routine and not just making it look like they were operating a farm." Clay shot back. "If it takes more than 8 hours for a two-man watch team to be convinced, then it takes 8 hours and the next team relieves them."

"We're going back to base at dawn." Beau said. "We're done here, mission accomplished."

"So what?" Clay sighed. "We don't talk about this decision either?"

"I've had enough of you and your attitude. You may not be mine to discipline because you being here with Charlie isn't official, but so help me Spencer, I will find a way to put you on report and not even the great Jason Hayes will be able to bury that file."

Clay stared, stunned. He'd obeyed orders to remain at camp because his shoulder ached and his hamstrings were tight from his slide down the hill. And truth, he hadn't felt all that great after hanging upside down. But to hike all the way out here and not have each man take a turn watching and then compare what everyone saw and what they thought about it? That was just asinine.

And the threat of being put on report didn't faze him one whit.

"I didn't hike all the way up here just to turn around and go back." Clay faced off with Beau. "How can you report what you saw when we all didn't take a turn watching?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Beau challenged. "Stay up here by yourself?"

"Why not?" He wouldn't have to. Well, only for a couple of hours. He'd get eyes on the camp, decide for himself what was going on down there and then, if he felt he needed back-up, one call and his team would be on their way. If he felt it was indeed just a harmless farm, he'd hike back down, reach the road and call for someone to come pick him up. Hell, depending on what he saw, his team wouldn't have to hike. They'd come via chopper.

"It's not your mission. Not your decision." Beau rubbed his forehead. "I've had enough of this. Discussion over."

"That's not going to happen." Mick said quickly. "No one is staying out here alone."

"Five of us watched that camp." Beau began.

"All at the same time." Clay argued. "Which is stupid." He shook his head. "For what, twenty minutes? A six hour hike for twenty minutes? Wow."

Beau blinked. It was like it was Hayes standing here, going toe-to-toe with him.

"My report will be thorough."

"And if it's wrong?"

"Whoa!" Mick stepped between the two men. "Spenser, dude, you gotta back down." He reached to pat Clay's shoulder but Clay threw his arm out to avoid the touch. "Hey now."

"Let him be." Beau shook his head. "He wants to do this all on his own, let him." What was worse? Going back without Bravo's kid? Or taking him back pissed off and slightly injured?

"What are you saying?" Greg asked slowly. "You can't…you're not….uh Boss, I don't think it's at all a good idea to leave him up here alone. No one in command is going to like that."

"Yeah, okay Spenser, you need to learn when to back off." Mick said. "What time would you like to go and watch the camp? Set your alarm, get up and go. But now, bed down."

Clay wanted to sit by the fire, enjoy the sounds of crickets and tree frogs, hear the snap and crackle of the flames, but the misty rain returned and the company wasn't all that great, so after swallowing the gel-caps, he took his backpack and sleeping bag off to spread out beneath low hanging pine branches that protected him from most of the drizzle and hid the view of his present company.

"I don't like him so far away from the fire." Mick commented.

"Guess he doesn't like to get wet." Beau scoffed. "Pansy-ass, it's just a bit of rain."

"What do you think of him?" Mick asked Beau with a sigh when it was obvious Beau wasn't going to order Clay to return and find a place by the fire. "Bit head strong, don't you think? Fights the bit."

"He's a pain in the ass." Beau returned. "Doesn't do as he's told, doesn't listen, questions my authority, doubts my decisions, argues about everything. He's a cocky, arrogant, Hayes-fucking-junior." He looked around, but the only protection from the rain was where Clay had bedded down.

"You know Hayes better than I do. I only know him by reputation." Mick yawned. "Do you think Hayes would put up with that from the kid? Maybe you just aren't used to someone so young?"

"Oh, it ain't that." Beau snorted. "I don't know the men on Bravo too well, Ray's pretty easy-going, Sonny's a hot-head, Brock would rather sic that dog on you than talk to you and Trent never talks to anyone. Their support team….." and didn't that just piss off Beau and every other team leader out there. "…..just falls in behind without a word."

"Now, now." Mick chuckled. "That support team runs with Alpha, Echo, when needed. You'd get them you ever asked. You know that."

"They're Hayes's men. Wouldn't want them."

"Kid's in excellent shape. Helped pull him up from the edge." Mick changed the subject. "Can't pinch an inch on him."

"Everyone knows that about Bravo." Beau shrugged. "Doesn't make them better.

()

Clay woke at midnight tired, sore, stiff, damp, miserable. He hadn't slept well. Oh he was warm enough, even comfortable in his sleeping bag, but he hadn't been able to soak in a hot bath with Epsom salts and he was feeling both his descent down the hill and his body grab off the cliff.

He went upstream, washed up, brushed his teeth, gargled mouthwash. He chuckled as he pulled on dry socks, thought fondly of Lisa, got dressed again and went to pour a cup of coffee from the pot nestled in the embers of the died down fire.

"Hey." Chase joined him. "You, uh, washed up?"

"Gonna be up all night." Clay said, because to him, that explained his actions. "What are you doing up?"

"Heard you get up, move off." Chase watched him pour coffee into a thermos, add beans to the percolator urn and return it to the embers. "Coffee this late?"

"If your boss isn't worried about the smell of smoke or the light of a fire, I'm not worried about the smell of coffee."

That wasn't what Chase had meant, but he let it go. Who drank coffee at midnight? "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, uh, hey, thanks." Chase said awkwardly. "For doing what you did."

Clay extended his fist for a bump, Chase left him hanging, not sure what he was supposed to do. Clay sighed, dropping his arm. "Sure, not a problem." He hoisted a backpack, smaller than the one he'd carried up the hill, slung it over his shoulder. "See you at dawn."

"You guys are pretty tight, aren't you?" Chase asked.

Clay shrugged. He guessed they were. No, no, no guessing. They were. He'd called Eric under the privacy of his pine tree haven, crawling out of his cozy sleeping bag and sticking his head out from beneath the branches to get and maintain a signal, reported that Charlie had spent twenty minutes, if that, observing the camp and were due to return in the morning. He'd asked for permission to ignore Beau's command to leave 'well enough alone' and get eyes on the target over night. Of course, Eric had said yes. But Eric had also said if Charlie was coming off that mountain in the morning, regardless of how much sleep Clay had managed to get, his ass had damn well better be with them when they hit transport.

Had in fact stated that someone would be there to greet Charlie, so Clay better not pull any stupid stunt and stay behind, because _they_ would know he hadn't return as ordered.

"Yeah," Clay nodded. "Yeah, we are."

"Hey, wait for me, Beau said if you were determined to go off all half-cocked on your own, I should go with you."

"You got what you need?"

Chase shrugged. "I'm dressed."

You don't have a rain poncho, no knife, no flashlight, no night vision, no extra ammo clips – hell, no gun, no binoculars, no coffee, no water, nothing t eat….but woot, you're dressed.

"Hey, that's a sniper rifle." Chase said in awe.

Clay nodded. "Uh, yeah, I'm a sniper." Good grief, not very observant, this Charlie team. "Didn't you see me carry it up here?"

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Set it up, watch through the scope, how do you observe and watch?"

"There's no one to shoot."

"I don't intend to shoot." Clay sighed. "You have water? Something to eat?"

"How long do you intend to watch?"

"Past dawn." Clay sighed again.

"That's like six hours away."

Clay rubbed his forehead.

"Three minutes." Mick said, coming out of a shadow. "Or we go without you." He too, like Clay, was dressed in black, gun over his shoulder, backpack slung over opposite shoulder. Unlike Clay, his night goggles were atop his helmet. "Gear up Chase and let's go."

( _three hours later_ )

Mick was miserable. Sprawled on his belly, elbows propped up in wet grass and cold mud to support the binoculars he was trying to view through with night vision goggles on, he was stiff, sore and pissed off.

The kid had night vision/infrared binoculars! What the hell? No on Charlie had them! Hadn't even thought to request them to bring with them on this mission. Beau would never have thought to observe the camp from over-view at night, or ordered it to be done. Yet, this kid had all the necessary equipment to do so. Mick could easily tell Clay was well used to these stake-outs. He was warm, dry, comfortable and well prepared.

When Clay had led them from camp, he'd started in the same direction Beau and the men had taken earlier, but veered off the path and instead of making a path over flat ground, had headed to that fucking hill and began to climb. Again.

Chase had looked at him like he thought Clay was crazy, but Mick had shrugged and started climbing after Clay, so Chase had fallen in without complaint.

And here they were. On their bellies, in a line, watching for any sign of activity within the camp below them. A camp that remained quiet and dark.

Mick had thought, eh, an hour. Maybe two and Clay would grow bored and restless, need to move, but nope, he set up his rifle, sighted the scope, laid down next to it, sipped coffee, munched on granola bars and watched through his binoculars.

"Do you guys do this all the time?" Chase whispered.

"Do what?"

"Watch dark buildings all night long?"

"Yup."

"Hayes makes you?" Mick asked.

"He takes his turn. He was out the night we went to the bar and made the bet. That's why he wasn't with us, he was tired…and…." He pushed up on his knees, the crickets had gone silent. Not even a tree frog chirped. Something or someone was on the move. "Anyone see anything?"

"No, why?" Chase asked. "Like what? Possum maybe? Raccoon?"

"It's quiet." Clay slowly, quietly, carefully moved to get another view, this one of the campsite where Charlie was bedded down. "Beau set anyone on watch?"

"No." Mick felt unease creep into his bones. Clay was tense, focused on something that had nothing to do with the camp below. "What is it?"

"Someone's moving on our campsite." Clay let the binoculars fall to hang on their strap around his neck, picked up his rifle and moved to a new location. He quickly stripped the suppressor off and sighted in.

"A silencer on a sniper rifle?" Mick wondered. "Really? You, uh…..wow."

"Depends on the mission, and this is not all that high powered a rifle." he cursed. "I can't see anyone, can't pick them up." He picked up his binoculars, scanned the area. "Anyone?"

"But you're sure someone is out there?" Mick questioned.

"Yeah, and they're not milking cows." Clay responded. "Gotcha." He again dropped the binoculars. "On my shot, you run like hell for our camp. Shot should wake everyone up."

"You can't just shoot someone in the dark!" Chase objected. "You don't even know if they mean to do us harm."

"Not going to wait and find out." Clay retorted. "They reach our campsite, catch the guys unaware, it's a blood bath."

Of all the stupid things to say…..yeah, men sneaking around quietly in the dark meant to do them harm. No doubt about it.


	4. Chapter 4

You all asked so nicely...and I'm happy I can oblige!  
Don't you love three-day Holiday weekends when you decide to stay home and have free time on your hands! Woot!

* * *

Everything happened simultaneously. Clay fired, a body dropped, the campsite erupted in activity, and men rushed Charlie, bursting from the undergrowth from three sides. Chase and Mick hit the path down the hill at a dead run and Clay was able to get off a second shot, drop another body before he was attacked.

Flat on his belly, the heavy weight landed on his back with a bone-jarring thud…..so, they'd dropped on him out of the tree from above, shit, he'd missed that. An elbow dug into the vulnerable spot between his shoulder blades. That brutal, hard jab and the force of the body landing on him forced the breath right out of him and he lay stunned for several seconds, losing the momentum to roll over and fight back.

It took him longer than it should have to shake it off, take a breath and try to roll over, hands reaching between his knees for a foot, which finding, he twisted until the weight on his back went slack. Now able to roll to his back, thankful he wasn't wearing a vest that would prohibit free movement, he drew his knees up to his chin, wedged his feet against a belly and pushed up and out, flipping the body over his head. He rolled with it, a backwards somersault, was on his feet, and in a fist fight.

He was well trained in hand-to-hand combat, sparred with all of Bravo, wrestled daily with Sonny when on missions, and it didn't occur to him he might not gain the upper hand in this fight. Damn, the man coming at him was quick, he didn't slow down and he didn't go down.

Clay bided his time, danced, jabbed, took several punches and realized though the punches were hard, they didn't rock him back on his heels. Didn't rattle his teeth or whip his head to the side…so either his opponent was young or…

He snatched the black knit hat from the dudes head and sure enough, long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail tumbled down. Blonde hair? In Thailand? He heard Jason's voice in his head: There is never a reason for a man to hit a woman, a solider however, fights to win. He heard Sonny's voice in his head: don't hesitate, don't pull your punch, don't be a gentleman. And finally, Trent's voice: A woman coming at you with the intent, means and ability to kill you deserves to be cold-cocked. And they all agreed on one thing…..if she was trying to kill you, knock her the fuck out.

Still Clay hesitated to land that last punch. She was young and small and… the bitch struck him in the temple with a rock. He staggered, reeling backwards. A kick in the crotch followed by a head dive into his stomach and they were both on the ground. Stunned, vision seeing bursting stars, he rolled with her, able to pin her down on her back, drew back a fist….and still, he hesitated. She swiped at him with a knife, catching his thigh.

Damn, he panted, pain flaring. Once Jason found out he'd been beaten up by a girl because he was too shy to fight back and render her unconscious, he'd kick his ass. She swiped again, able to worm her way out from beneath him while he was busy imagining what Jason would say and do once he found out. This time, she caught his lower belly, just above his belt where his pants didn't offer his belly the same protection they did his thighs.

He'd had enough.

Grabbing her hand with the knife, he forced her arm down, twisted and easily snapped the bones in her wrist. He tossed the knife aside when her hand went limp. He gave her credit though, she didn't make a sound when the bones broke. She brought her knee up into his back, dislodging him and she scrambled away.

If she were attacking a man not trained to fight, she'd easily have won.

Clay thought to let her go, thinking he'd caused her enough pain to chase her off, but she easily came up into a crouch, pivoted and launched at him, rock in her other hand. He rolled away, came up on his knees but couldn't straighten up. Doubled over, hunched over his thighs, not yet having his breath back from the nut-cracking, he waited until she was close, and with one final swing, rendered her unconscious with a fist to the jaw.

He hoped he hadn't broken her jaw….he'd feel bad…..hell, he was going to feel horrible for breaking her wrist….but, right about now, he hoped the bitch drank her meals through a straw for the next eight weeks or so.

"Aww….fuck." he groaned and indulged in a bit of little boy pouting, clasped his hands between his thighs and rolled around on the ground. He breathed through it, fought down the nausea and when he heard gun shots, scrambled to his feet; fell, tried again to stand, tripped. On his knees he grabbed his rifle, crawled to a tree and with its support against one hand, rose only to stumble forward, striking his shoulder against the tree, hitting the bark with his full weight when he lost his balance.

"Ooooffff." He went down again, and stayed down, waiting for his breath to return. "Shit." He gulped, and after crawling back over to the tree he had somehow managed to roll away from, once gain braced his hand against it and struggled to his feet.

He really should tie the bitch up, but chose to stagger down the hill to assist Charlie instead.

By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, half sliding, half crawling, sometimes walking, he'd shaken off the cobwebs from having his bell rung with a rock, subdued the pain from the kick and was able to shoulder his rifle, take up a safe stance and fire accurately.

"We clear?" Clay yelled, moments later. God, he hoped so. 'Cause hitching a shoulder to wipe the blood out of his eye wasn't working anymore, his sleeve was soaked through.

Beau stood in disbelief as the chaos that littered his campsite. He called to his men to count off, all reported back and he had to sit down when the relief he felt staggered him and his knees refused to support him.

The campsite was destroyed. Every sleeping bag and backpack was shot up or knifed through, kicked aside. Except one. That one was a distance away, under the protection of low hanging pine branches. And that just pissed him off.

He'd burned his feet dancing around the strewn embers from the fire. Five dead bodies were here and there and over yonder, because according to Mick, Spenser had taken out two before he and Chase had even reached the campsite.

This was all Jason Hayes's fault. If Beau hadn't been trying to piss him off, this never would have happened.

Speaking of that sonofabitch…..Beau best lay eyes on the man's rookie.

"SPENSER!" Beau bellowed, picking up a foot to inspect the damage done to it.

"That's why we sleep with our boots on." Clay walked forward, rifle in his right arm but aimed toward the sky. He came with a limp, stopped against a tree to support his weight.

"Jesus Christ, look at you." Beau snarled. "What the fuck happened?! Bobby, you okay to see to him?"

"I'm okay." Clay waved Bobby away. "See to his feet."

"You're bleeding." Bobby stated.

"My feet are fine." Beau grumbled.

"Mmmmm," Clay nodded. "Head versus rock." But he slid down the tree until he sat on his hip near what was left of the fire, seeking the warmth. All of a sudden, he really wasn't feeling all that good

"Here, gimme that." Karl took possession of the rifle. Clay let him.

"Left one alive up the hill. Was out cold when I left." Clay went down on his side. "Just watch her, mean right. Just gonna close my eyes a second….."

"Her?" Mick repeated. "Did you say her?"

"Oh no you're not." Beau stood up. "Chase, take Karl, go up the hill, see if you can find the guy. Bring back the two he shot if you can find them. Greg, get a fire going. Mick, check these guys, see what we can find. Bobby, take care of him."

Bobby retrieved his medical kit and knelt beside Clay, who, used to Trent, fidgeted when Bobby snapped on rubber gloves and reached with a cloth to wipe the blood from his cheek and eye.

"You're the medic?" Clay asked, hissed, jaw clenched. Trent never wore gloves when taking care of him. He just teased him about another boo-boo while the rest of the team hung over his shoulder and watched.

"Yup," he had a flashlight in his teeth. "What year is it?"

"2017. I don't have a concussion."

"I'll decide that. Can you hold this?"

"Sure." Clay raised a hand, held the cloth firmly against the gash over his left eye. "It'll bleed a lot, but won't need stitches."

"And how would you know that?"

"I can see straight." He said, as though that explained everything. It didn't. But it would have to Trent.

Bobby shook his head. Whatever the hell that meant.

"You hurt anywhere else?"

"She had a knife."

"She?" Bobby chuckled. "Aaah, no wonder you left her alive. She kicked your ass dude."

Clay groaned at the LED light flashed in his eyes.

"Where'd you take it?"

"Thigh, belly, think I'm okay, just swipes."

Bobby pushed Clay onto his back, raised his shirt, thumbed his belly, probed the 'gaping wound'.

"Stitches or staples?" Bobby asked.

"That bad?" Clay raised his head to look down, felt dizzy and put his head back on solid ground. "Whichever is easier for you. Don't matter. Trent likes staples. Faster. 'Course, he hates to sew."

"Not bad, but don't want you losing too much blood up here." He was a bit surprised Clay was so calm and compliant, letting him do what he wanted. Kid didn't even flinch when Bobby pulled on his belt to loosen it and unzipped his pants. "Lift your hips."

The pants and shirt both being black, if Clay hadn't admitted to the knife wounds, Bobby wouldn't have seen the bleeding or known to look for the tell-tale signs of injury by tears in the material.

"OW!" Clay yelped as the material pulled against the gash in his leg.

"Sorry. Yeah, gonna need a couple staples here too. Will need to clean them both out first. Any other injuries?"

"Don't think so." Clay swallowed hard, beginning to shiver. Bobby frowned. That was odd.

"Greg, get a move on with that fire!"

Bobby knew Clay was cold and wet from lying in the mud and wet grass up on the hill for several hours, and didn't need him taking a chill. He didn't think shock was much of a chance, but he didn't like Clay's bottom lip trembling.

"Something wrong?" Mick paused in his process of going through the pockets of the three dead men.

"He's banged up a bit. Would like to get him dry and warm."

"I have dry socks." Clay quipped. "Lisa wouldn't let me leave without extra socks."

"Lisa?" Greg repeated. "Girlfriend?"

"Mmmmm." Clay groaned, feeling every ache and pain and complaint his body had suffered that day. "Supplies our gear." He tensed, wincing when a thumb probed the gash on his thigh. "OW!"

"I'm going to need hot water." Bobby looked around. The only container he could see that would heat water was the dented coffee urn. "Sorry, you're good, not too deep."

"Pan in my backpack." Clay offered, "And a collapsible five gallon pail to carry water."

"Jesus, you just have everything." Mick said, shaking his head. "Nothing on these guys."

"Lisa packed for me." He could feel the warmth of blood trickling down his wrist. Which was bullshit, blood wasn't warm once it hit open air, but yeah, the cloth he was holding to his temple had soaked through. "Think I need another cloth."

"Christ, you bled through that?" Bobby folded another and switched them out. "Apply pressure."

"Roger that." Clay slurred.

"Stay awake." Bobby ordered.

"Okay."

"Who trained this guy?" Greg wondered, returning with Clay's backpack. "Pretty fucking calm, not knowing how bad he's hurt."

Clay stirred. "Trent did."

"Stay still." Beau ordered. The condition of Clay's backpack pissed him off. It was untouched. Greg also had dragged Clay's sleeping bag over. It too, was untouched. And water resistant. Sonofabitch. Forget trying to steal Spenser for future missions. Charlie needed this Lisa person.

"Good, get him off this damp ground." Bobby nodded. "Count of three, we'll pick him up, you lay it out and we'll put him on it."

"Told you not to camp here." Clay let himself be picked up by Beau and Bobby, didn't fight them, welcoming the soft, cozy warmth of his sleeping bag. "Told you to scout high. Told you to set watch. Told you not to light the fire. Told you to observe the camp.

"Told you to shut up." Beau said. He couldn't help but think if Clay hadn't questioned him over his decision to stop and make camp here – over his every decision – Chase wouldn't have fallen off a cliff, Clay wouldn't be hurt, their camp wouldn't have been attacked, there wouldn't be five dead men, his feet wouldn't hurt, hell, none of this would have happened.

"Ever hear of SIXX A.M.?" Bobby was asking.

"Hasn't everyone? Happens every day." Clay let his hand drop, arm aching from holding it up and applying pressure to his head, which was throbbing. Maybe without his hand pressing so hard against it, his head would stop hurting so much.

"The rock band." Bobby added. "Bass player from Motley Crue? No bells ringing?"

"Oh. Then no." Clay was quiet. "Jason likes classic rock, Ray listens to Soul or Rhythm n Blues, some Motown." He shuddered, hitching a shoulder up to his ear. "Brock won't admit it, but he knows the words to some mountain climbing song by Mylie and he 'shakes it off' with Taylor. Sonny is all country, but yeah, he knows most of the music Jason listens to. Trent likes current rock….why?"

Bobby hadn't asked for a rundown of who listened to what kind of music but if talking kept Clay's mind off impending pain, he'd listen.

"Cause, this is gonna hurt." Bobby was opening packages, uncapping bottles, unrolling gauze, tearing tape into strips. "Awesome song."

"Just give me morphine."

"Got something better." Bobby said but Clay was shaking his head. "What?"

"Can't." Clay moaned. "Just gimme morphine…."

"But this will work better, it's faster and….."

"Trent will kick my ass." Clay pushed up on his elbows. "Clean it out, staple it, wrap it up."

"Trent? The not your medic Trent?" Greg asked. "That Trent?"

"That same one." Clay nodded. "I have morphine."

"Quick sticks." Bobby shook his head. "Temporary relief."

"No, morphine." Clay corrected. "I can inject myself, if I have to. There's a grey medical kit in my bag, big ole red cross on it."

"How's your tolerance for pain?"

"Depends on who you ask." Clay went flat on his back. Mick was now holding the cloth to the gash on his head. "Trent says fairly high, Sonny says I cry like a baby. Jason hopes I never get captured and tortured 'cause breaking me is gonna frustrate my captors into deadly violence and he worries he won't be able to get to me before that happens."

Beau exchanged a look with Mick. Huh.

So, high, Bobby decided to go with what Trent, the not-medic, thought and said.

"Bleeding is slowing finally." Mick said. "Hand me some wipes, I'll clean him up."

"Red Cross loves me. I bleed fast." Clay was feeling drowsy. Huh, maybe he'd been hit harder with that rock than he'd thought. "But here's the downside of that. I bleed a lot." he felt a sting across his eye. "Little warning next time." he hissed through clenched teeth. Now his eye stung and burned from the wet antiseptic wipe. It teared up and no amount of blinking cleared the moisture away.

And people called Trent rough and abrasive! Ha! He didn't try and blind you.

"Butterfly band-aides good?" Greg asked Mick, who nodded.

"Bottle of saline first, let me squirt it clean." Mick said. "Clay? Your head hurt?" he asked when Clay kept raising a hand to ground the heel against his forehead.

"Aches." Clay admitted. "But I can see okay."

"Try not to rub, okay? Don't want you pulling the bandage off or tugging on your skin, you'll make it bleed again." Mick said. "Stop."

Karl had retrieved a bucket of water with the pail from Clay's backpack and filled the pan, that while not steaming hot, had heated enough the water was warm. Mick dipped a cloth, wiped the blood and bits of dirt and dust from the rock out of the cut, squirted it with saline, dried it off and taped a bandage over it.

"Here, sorry about that." Mick held a thumb over Clay's lower lashes to keep him from blinking and flushed his eye with the saline. "Better?"

Once Mick had finished and Clay had relaxed, Bobby pulled a bottle from his bag and sprayed its contents over the gash on Clay's thigh. He waited a couple minutes, then with Mick and Greg's assistance, soon had the gash on Clay's thigh, high above his knee, washed, cleaned out, stapled.

"Raise your leg." Bobby said. "Put your foot flat. That's it, just gonna wrap a bandage around your leg." It wasn't as deep at the gash on his belly, the heavy material of his pants had blunted the swipe. "Only took four, not too bad, right?"

"Doing good." Bobby told him. Clay had been stoic, jaw clenched, hands fisted throughout his administrations. "Rest for a minute, okay? Then we'll start your belly."

"Can't believe he stayed still through that." Greg said. "Had to hurt."

"No debris to dig out, clean cut. Knife was sharp." Bobby answered. "Lidocaine was enough to dull the discomfort."

"No." Clay stirred, head rolling on the downy sleeping bag. He liked the softness, rubbed his cheek against it. "What?" he should protest something, but he couldn't focus on what. "You…...no, don't."

"Ssh," Mick shushed him.

"Belly's more tender. He won't like it." Bobby said. "We've all had staples, nothing to cry over."

"He's not in shock, is he? He's awfully quiet." Mick said. "Kinda groggy too."

"Yeah, we've had staples before. And they're a bitch." Greg made a face. "Hate them. Pull, itch, skins feels all hot."

"No. He's good. He's down, he's warm, and we can control his pain." Bobby swiped an antiseptic swap across the gash on Clay's belly, instructed Mick to hold the two edges together, wiped away the blood and set the first staple.

Clay winced, jerked with a hiss. His fist punched the ground and though he wanted to kick the ground as well, he quelled the urge and didn't.

"Okay, few more than your leg." Bobby sprayed more lidocaine. Clay didn't ask for it, but Bobby gave him a shot of morphine and Bobby worked quickly to finish up. The base doc would do a much better job, he told Beau.

"No." Clay rolled his head, lifted it to look down at the bandage on his belly once Bobby was done taping it into place. "We have a doc. Christ, Trent's gonna be pissed. Ugh."

"They have a doc?" Bobby looked at Beau who shrugged. "Does the doc travel with you?"

"Yuh-huh." Clay squirmed, gathering his resolve to sit up so Bobby could wrap an ace bandage around his belly to help hold the taped-on bandage in place. "He's cool, butts head with Jason all the time."

"Yeah? Name someone who doesn't." Beau snorted.

Beau's walkie squawked, Karl and Chase reported there was no live or dead body at the sight where Clay had fought with the woman. Yes, they had the correct location, yes they'd passed two dead bodies and would collect them on their return to camp, no, there was no sign of an unconscious person.

"Move him back from the fire a bit, tuck him in his sleeping bag." Beau said. "Over there, under that tree is good. Leafs won't offer much protection from the rain, but he's not in the open."

"Wait." Clay blinked, "Waaayate…" his throat felt thick, odd. He swallowed, rubbing his tongue along the roof of his mouth in an attempt to moisten his mouth with saliva. Nope, didn't work. "No. Not…..bad idea. Tree." There was something he needed to tell Charlie, something about the fight, about this campsite….something….his ears buzzed and he was out.

With Clay tended, settled and asleep, Bobby, Greg, Mick and Beau all moved the three dead men in their camp out of the immediate circle around the fire, then Greg and Mick went to meet Chase and Karl to help them carry the dead man in to camp.

"Head shots." Mick commented. "All of them."

"Spenser got them all?" Chase asked. "We heard shots coming down the hill."

"We didn't fire." Karl said. "We heard a shot, and they came in shooting."

"That was Clay." Mick said. "Taking out the first guy."

At no time, did everyone leave the campsite at the same time. Clay was never out of anyone's sight. Not even ten minutes had passed, but when Bobby turned around to check on Clay, Clay was gone. Sleeping bag and all.

"Where did he go?" Chase asked. "CLAY?"

"That's not possible." Beau said stupidly. "He was _right_ there."

"You wanna know what isn't possible?" Bobby said. "He didn't pack up his sleeping bag and go home."

"What are you saying?" Mick asked. "He's capable of walking."

"I'm not saying he's not." Bobby snapped, frustrated. "But we would have heard him if he got up, a yelp, a groan, something. I'm saying someone took him."

"How?" Karl demanded. "When? Who?"

"You mean, just walked in here, behind our backs, right under our noses and just took him?" Greg shook his head. "There are six of us. We would have heard or seen something."

"Then you tell me where the hell he is." Beau demanded.

"You don't think he's playing a joke?" Chase asked. "Do you"

Bobby shook his head. "No. He's hurt."

"Bravo?" Karl guessed.

Everyone looked at Beau who stared in, well, dismay, shock, disbelief, take your pick because he had no idea how the hell he felt right now.

In less than twenty-four hours, Bravo's rookie had skied down a hill on his heels and ass, dragged a man's dead weight up a cliff, killed five men, engaged in a fist-fight, been stabbed - twice, had his head split open and oh yeah, gone missing.

It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

How the hell was Beau supposed to call command and report Clay Spenser was missing? He groaned…..how the hell was he going to tell Jason Hayes he'd taken his rookie on a routine hike to simply survey the terrain and observe a camp and lost his kid?

Beau finally shook his head. "Hayes is an ass, and they're capable of coming up here and making off with the kid, but no. Hayes wouldn't pull a stunt like that with the kid hurt."

"What is that?" Mick asked.

"What?"

"That!"

They all heard it now. It was coming from Spenser's backpack.

Beau cursed when Chase unzipped a pocket and pulled out a sat phone that was ringing. How the hell did a rookie rate a sat phone on any mission? Flipping up the antenna, pissed and worried, expecting who he didn't know, he barked it into phone.

"Who the hell is this?" Beau growled.

"Fuller." Jason sighed.

Male voice. So, not the girlfriend or mom or Davis.

"Hayes." Beau spat. "Why does your rookie have a sat phone on a mission with me?"

"Cause he always carries one."

"Why?"

"He goes high on his own a lot." And comms have a habit of conveniently going out whenever we need to reach him. And we have this habit of losing him and I never now where I'm going to find him. But of course, he didn't admit any of that to Beau.

"Comms not good enough for your golden-haired child?"

"Why are you answering his phone?"

Beau wasn't about to tell Jason how Clay had insisted on staying behind on his own and setting up watch on the camp. Now he knew why Clay hadn't been at all hesitant to remain behind alone. He had a phone to call for help and there was no doubt that fucking Blackburn wouldn't immediately dispatch Bravo via chopper to come get him. But then, Jason already knew that...because Clay would have called in by now.

Yeah, how to tell Jason Clay couldn't answer, because….

"And why isn't his phone with him?" Jason added.

Silence.

"You lost him, didn't you?" Jason sighed. "Did you call command?" he knew Beau hadn't or Eric would have been notified and would have bee-lined right to Jason's side. "When? How long ago?"

"He's not lost." Beau snapped.

"Do you know where he is?"

Silence.

"So, he's missing. Which means, you lost him."

"We didn't lose him."

"He's not with you, you don't know where he is, he hasn't come back." Jason sighed. "He was your responsibility, you were supposed to look after him, that means knowing where he is at all times. Hell, Cerberus does a better job than you do babysitting."

"Fuck you Hayes. We're done."

Jason chuckled. "Oh, we'll see you soon." He promised.

"Yeah, well when that time comes, we'll deliver your boy right into your waiting arms." Beau snapped. God-damn the smug ass. Christ, he could not stand Jason Hayes.

"I doubt that." Jason said confidently.

"Oh yeah?" Beau was furious. Bravo would tell command he couldn't account for Clay's whereabouts. They'd ask for permission to come after the kid and good ole Blackburn would grant it.

"Oh yeah." Jason agreed. "We're ten minutes out. See you _soon_ Beau."

 _Hold on kid, we're coming._


	5. Chapter 5

_***several hours earlier***_

Eric left his quarters, headed towards the barracks currently occupied by Bravo and their support team. The MP on guard duty at the gate didn't even bother asking for his id. Just opened the gate and stepped aside to allow him through. Wow, had he spent so much time here the last couple days, he was known by sight?

The gym was empty. No one played darts or video games or watched TV in the rec center. The entire section was quiet. No one was outside playing basketball or football or catch. No one sat around the fire pit. It was past dinner time but just after 7 o'clock, too early for bed. So, where was everyone?

The barracks were empty. No sign of anyone. Huh. They weren't due to report to work until noon the next day. But no one had asked for permission to leave base.

Well, they could have asked Jason and been granted permission, but eh, Bravo tended to stick together when one of them was not with them….aah, right. He turned and crossed the decking that led to Jason's quarters.

"Hey." Eric knocked then opened the door. Sure enough, Jason was sprawled on this bed asleep, Cerberus across his feet, Sonny and Trent sat on the floor playing a video game on a laptop and Ray and Brock played checkers at the table. "Here you all are."

Trent set his game controller down, losing the game to Sonny. Ray twisted around in his chair to face the same direction as Brock…to see Eric, who hadn't dropped by just to find out where they were.

"Spenser called in." Eric continued. He stepped over to pet Cerberus who rolled onto his back and exposed his belly for a good ole rubbing. Eric obliged.

"How's powder-puff doing?" Sonny asked. "Think he's loving Charlie?"

"He asked for permission to spend tonight with eyes on the camp because Charlie spent twenty minutes doing so earlier today." Eric said. "They didn't take Spenser with them, though he didn't say why."

"But you think he knew why?" Trent said. Eric nodded. "He say anything went wrong?"

"Twenty minutes?" Ray repeated. "You can't find anything out in twenty minutes."

"Oh, it's a working farm." Eric replied. "Beau said so. They're coming down in the morning." He waited for Jason to wake up. "He didn't say anything Trent, but he was evasive when I asked how it was going."

"What did you tell him?" Jason asked, coming awake from his light doze. He rolled onto his back, rubbed his eyes and came up on one elbow to blearily gaze up at Eric. He yawned.

"Told him regardless of how much sleep he managed to get, his ass better be with Charlie at transport." Eric rubbed the back on his neck. "He was gonna lie down, get up at midnight and watch the camp until dawn."

"Dawn's at what time over here?" Brock asked. "Five?"

"What are you thinking?" Ray asked Eric.

"I think the dog needs a walk." Eric said evasively, staring Jason down, who, after a moment, lowered his head and nodded.

Trent pushed to his feet. "I hear there's a really good trail on a mountain about an hour's ride from here. Good place to walk a dog."

Ray looked at his watch….half hour to pack, hour drive to the trail, six hour hike…they'd get to Charlie's campsite…give or take half an hour, by 3 a.m.

Jason sat up, moving his feet so Cerberus fell between them to the mattress. He looked up at Eric, held a silent conversation with his eyes.

' _You saying I have something to worry about?'  
 _' _I'm saying it's worth checking out.'  
' _Sending us after Charlie is gonna cause shit.'  
' _I've got your back.'_____

"Anyone not want to take Cerberus for a walk?" Jason swung his leg over the dogs head, put both feet on the floor.

"He's a strong dog." Trent said.

"Takes uh, five guys to walk him." Sonny stood up. "Right?"

The guys got up and got moving. Eric pulled Jason aside before he could follow his men out.

"Charlie didn't call for back-up, I can't sanction a chopper. You're gonna hafta hike up there."

Jason nodded, he understood.

"But you happen to run into any trouble, well then, that's a different story." Eric patted his shoulder. "Be careful out there."

***000***

Beau tossed the phone back into the backpack with a curse – or three.

"Whoa." Mick said at the language. "Hayes pissed off?"

Beau didn't answer.

"So, uh, he say why he called?" Mick tried again. "Beau, come on, you just told him his kid is missing, that isn't gonna sit well with him. Hell, it wouldn't sit well with any team, who has a man unaccounted for."

"Why'd you tell him Spencer was missing?" Greg scowled. "Christ, now we'll never hear the end of it."

"I didn't _tell_ him." Beau snapped. "He knew it soon as Spenser didn't answer the phone."

"Can't believe he has a sat phone." Greg said.

"So do we." Chase pointed out.

"Beau does." Greg corrected. "We don't carry one."

"Alright, come on." Mick clapped his hands. "We need to regroup, nothing Hayes can do about it. We need to find Spenser."

"You don't think Hayes will run to Blackburn, head up here?" Karl asked.

"Will take hours." Mick shook his head. "Hayes will stick to his own mission."

"Choppers." Karl said. "Command knows where the camp is."

"All Hayes knows is Spenser is missing. He doesn't know he was hurt or taken or that we were attacked." Mick said. "He'll sit tight, wait for word." He was watching Beau, wondering why he hadn't heard Beau explain to Hayes what had happened. If it were one of their men, he'd want to know. "Or does he know how Spenser came down the hill?" He asked Beau.

Beau was remembering Jason warning him to have Spenser back by the time Bravo was due to fly out because they wouldn't leave without him; recalled Jason saying 'if we have to come get him'…..almost as if Bravo had expected to come after them.

"Spenser must have called in at some point." Mick said when Beau didn't answer. "Probably to Blackburn. Think Eric told Hayes?" he thought it over. "Would have to have been before he went to get eyes on the camp, he didn't take the phone with him and he didn't have a chance to get it when he got back.…you think he called Blackburn to get permission?"

"Why would Hayes call him anyway?" Chase wondered. "No need really. Unless Clay did tell Blackburn about the hill. Don't see why he would, he wasn't hurt."

"The issue we should be discussing is what happened to Spenser, how we find him and how we get him back." Karl said.

"Doesn't matter." Beau kicked a log towards the fire.

His men stood and stared. First at Beau, then at Mick for direction.

"Don't know what the little prick said when he called in, or who he called, but whatever he said, it sent Bravo on their way here." Beau threw a boot at a tree. "They're here."

"Where?" Bobby demanded. "Here? Like now?"

"How the hell did they know where to find us?" Karl demanded.

"Tracked the GPS on the sat phone." Mick answered.

"There's no way they knew Clay was missing before they set out." Bobby said. "You think they came up here because he skied down the hill? I can't see that."

Beau sighed. "Spenser must have said something when he called in."

"He asked his team to come up here?" Bobby asked. "That's pretty shitty."

But Beau shook his head, then shrugged. Hell, he didn't know. Bravo never did what was expected. They just did whatever the hell they wanted to.

"Do we, uh, wait for them?" Chase asked. "Go after Clay on our own?"

"We need to clean up the campsite, gather our weapons, see what's been ruined." Beau decided. "Chase and Mick, you're dressed, have your weapons, go scout the area, see if you can find any sign of what happened to him."

"Roger that." Mick nodded and he and Chase moved off.

Beau hobbled but once he located both boots and put them on, his feet didn't hurt as much to walk on. He, Bobby, Karl and Greg first got dressed, then picked up and sorted various items strewn about the campsite.

Greg built the fire up, the mist was annoying and cold, but not heavy or hard enough to douse the fire. He'd just added more wood when shadows materialized of the darkness and took the form of five, large men, dressed all in black. They simply stood at the edge of the camp, quiet and motionless.

"Bravo's here!" Greg sang softly.

"Honey! We're home!" Sonny bellowed. "Now, where's our boy!?"

"Fuck you." Beau retorted, turned his back on Bravo, threw a log on the fire.

"Wrong answer." Sonny raised a shotgun, leveled it at Beau, fired.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Bobby yelped, leaping forward. "The FUCK!"

Sonny fired a second round.

First shot hit Beau in the back of his shoulder; the prick wanted to blow him off and turn his back on him?  
Second shot hit Beau's left buttock; because the first shot had sent him crashing to his hands and knees.  
Third shot didn't get off because Greg tackled Sonny with a flying leap.  
Sonny met him head on, staggered, but didn't go down.

Bravo simply stood in a line and watched.

"Boss!" Bobby rushed to his side as Beau pushed up onto his hands and knees, weaved a bit. "Jesus, where are you hit? Is it bad? Let me see!"

"Oh, for Christ Sake," Trent stepped forward. "It's a fucking bean bag." He was the first to move into the immediate area around the camp fire. "Didn't even break skin."

"Bean bags can cause damage, you asshole." Bobby snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you!? You don't just walk up and shoot people!"

"Bah." Brock smirked. Greg was sprawled on his back, having been flipped over Sonny's shoulder. "This is your campsite?" he said doubtfully, casting a dubious eye overhead, then north, then at the ground. "Here? Did you choose here deliberately? The fuck! Tell me one of your men got hurt and you had to stop _here_ because his life depended on it. Trees overhead, cliff to the north, no protection from the rain, fresh water too far away, no over watch," he rattled off, "Cub scouts could do a better job picking a campsite."

"Don't even start, you fucking prick." Beau snapped, hand holding his ass. He searched out Jason, but Bravo's boss didn't step up to meet him.

Having heard the gun shots, Mick and Chase came running. They saw their boss on the ground, Bobby kneeling over him, Greg just starting to move and with a roar, Mick swung at Sonny, who, with a roar of his own, took the punch on the jaw and swung back.

Chase went after Brock.

"So, that's how it's gonna be." Trent moved closer. "Really?" And he moved to head Karl off from ganging up on Sonny with Mick.

"Gonna break that up?" Ray asked Jason.

"Nope."

Ray shrugged. Three on four, because Greg was back on his feet, with a pissed off Sonny made the odds even. He turned to Beau and Bobby.

"We've had a bad day, so let's make this easy." Ray said. "How long has he been gone?"

"He shot him!" Bobby yelled. "I can't believe you _let_ him shoot him!"

"Keep yapping and he'll shoot you next." Ray shook his head. "Let's try again, what happened?"

Grunts and curses, trash talk and threats, the sounds of fists and bodies hitting the ground didn't faze Ray at all. He just stepped aside when a stray foot caught him in the hip.

"Stay down there dude, I'll give you an ass-kicking you won't soon forget." Someone said.

"Put that gun down!" Bobby ordered. "Christ! HAYES!"

"This gun?" Ray held the retrieved bean bag shotgun. "Five rounds, I believe. So, three to go, in case you're having a hard time keeping count."

"This is our mission Hayes." Beau got to his feet, shaking off Bobby's support. "Butt the fuck out." He hunched his shoulder, raised his arm, extended his hand over his head. "Call your men off." Though his shoulder hurt and would most likely bruise, the bean bag shot hadn't done any damage. His ass though, hurt like a bitch.

"I don't care about your mission." Jason finally stepped forward. "We came to get Spenser."

"Yeah, well, we don't have him." Bobby snarled.

"What are you even doing here?" Beau asked. "We didn't call for back-up." He paused. "Or did your boy?"

"We're taking the dog for a walk." Jason tilted his head. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed. "Ray, give me the lay-out. Trent, what do you have?"

Bravo came together.

Trent toed the pan of water, left sitting with pink water. He tossed the opened packages and wrappers and bloodied, discarded cloths at Beau's feet. "Who's hurt?"

Sonny and Brock stood Ray and Jason, waiting for someone to answer Trent.

"Where's your god-damn dog?" Karl spat a wad of blood in the dirt. "Son-of-a-bitch knocked a tooth lose."

"Shit." Sonny smacked his open palm against his forehead. "Knew we forgot something. Didn't I tell you we forgot something? Brock, where's Cerb?"

"Beau?" Jason prodded. "Is Spenser hurt?"

Silence. No one spoke. No one made eye contact.

"Who got staples?" Trent asked, peering at one Charlie after another.

Ray was unfolding a god-damn, mother-fucking paper map and trying to shield it from the misty rain, Sonny and Brock huddled over it with him. Jason stood with Trent, awaiting answers.

"…we're here….."

"…..cliff to the north…."

"…..hill for over watch there…"

"….water that way…"

"….makes the target….."

"…just over there….."

"…well, shit…. 'hey, here we are, come kill us….."

"Someone had better start talking." Trent said. "Or I'm gonna start cracking skulls until someone does."

"You're out of line!" Beau shouted. "God Dammit Hayes! Who do you think you are?"

Jason whirled, fist darting out and catching Beau right in the mouth. He'd left his vest and gun and backpack on the ground and nothing inhibited his range. A left fist immediately followed the first right and Beau staggered back.

Mick started forward to intervene but Jason pulled back on his own. No one from Bravo even looked up from the map. Trent squatted down to root through more trash by the fire.

"You don't get to stand here and act all oh so self-righteous!" Jason yelled. "You get in my face when YOU fucked up?! Doesn't matter who it is! You put aside your petty bullshit and you find your man!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? You aren't always right Hayes!" Beau turned his head and wiped blood from a split lip on his sleeve. "You come in here shooting! Throwing punches! Demanding answers! Give us a fucking chance to tell you!"

"Me? What is wrong WITH ME? JESUS CHRIST FULLER! HOW STUPID DO YOU THINK WE ARE?!" Jason roared. "This campsite was HIT! There are five dead men over there! All head shots! You think I wouldn't notice?"

"Most likely, Spence was up there." Ray was pointing. "He could see both camps."

"Did they let him go alone?" Sonny growled. "I'll rip someone's god-damn head off!"

"Was he shot?" Trent asked.

"ANSWER HIM!" Jason picked up a length of wood and whipped it across the camp. "GOD DAMMIT! SOMEONE GIVE ME ANSWERS! WHAT HAPPENED?"

"FUCK YOU!" Beau shouted right back. "We were nearly killed in our sleep! What the hell do you want me to say? Now BACK the FUCK off and give us five minutes!"

"But you weren't. You're welcome. Though I haven't heard a thank you." Jason said flippantly.

Charlie to the last man, simply stared, then erupted in anger. No one though, moved on Jason. He out-ranked even Beau.

"For what?" Greg exclaimed incredulously.

"The fuck!"

"That's cold."

"The hell does that even mean?"

"Why the hell would we thank you?"

"Be a cold day in hell, we thank you, you prick."

"That's uncalled for. Jesus Hayes, you can hate me all you want, but my men never did a damn thing to you." Beau spat, man-oh-man, he was having a hard time not pummeling Hayes to the ground.

"Well, yeah, they kinda did." Ray looked up from his study of the map. "They lost Clay."

"Because you're not dead." Jason had regained control, was keeping his tone level. "Because we trained that kid. Because he insisted on going high, get eyes on the target. Because the kid knows you can't tell a fucking thing by watching for twenty minutes. Because he shoots to kill. Oh yeah, I know Spenser took them all out. All head shots tell me that. What the hell were you doing?!"

"Sleeping snug as bugs in their sleeping bags." Sonny coo-cooed. "Ain't that right, boys?"

Mick was fuming, hell, he was ready to blow his top. But Clay Spenser had gone missing on their watch and he and Chase hadn't seen any signs to tell them how it had happened. Bravo, for the moment, was calm, and he wanted it to remain that way.

"No. He wasn't shot." Mick uttered through gritted teeth, hands fisted at his sides. "Yes, that is where he went to get eyes on the camp. Chase and I went with him. Yes, there was a hit on the camp. Yes, Spenser took them all out. Got two from up high, came down, picked off the last three."

"Didn't get all of them." Brock said. "Or he'd still be here with you. They did a good job hitting this place, for you know, farmers." He added sarcastically.

"They thought there were six men here." Ray said.

"Seven." Chase corrected.

"Six visible sleeping bags." Jason said. "If that kid bedded down out in the open like this, I'll run his ass until his feet blister." He kicked at the dirt in disgust. "He knows better."

"He spread out under those pine trees." Brock said.

"How do you know that?" Chase asked.

"Because it's what he was taught to do." Brock said.

"And you know he will just do what he was told even when he's not with you?" Karl scoffed.

"If he wants to live, yeah," Brock glared.

"But he wasn't taken from there." Trent turned. "Or they never would have gotten him."

"No, they came up the cliff." Ray agreed. "So…..he was over there. Right?" he looked at Beau.

"Not possible." Bobby shook his head. "It's a cliff, Chase nearly went down it."

"They know this area, navigate this terrain daily." Brock shook his head. "There are paths, I guarantee it."

"So, you're saying, they just came up a path from the bottom of that cliff, even though their camp is on level ground with ours, snatched him and walked away without any of us seeing anything?" Mick said. "Don't believe it."

"Did any of you expect anyone to come up the cliff?" Ray asked. "No? Right, thought so. The question is, why didn't Spenser fight or call out for help?"

"Where's his sleeping bag?" Brock asked. "There's his backpack, there's his shoulder pack, that's his pan, his bucket, these are his socks. That's his rifle but I haven't found his sleeping bag."

"He was in it." Greg said.

"Christ, all they had to do was grab it and yank him right over the side." Ray shook his head. "Stupid."

"Still doesn't explain why he didn't fight." Trent kicked more blood spotted rags around, "Jesus Jason." He looked at Bobby. "Head injury?"

"How do you know that?" Mick asked, shaking his head.

"I know him." Trent said. "Concussed?"

"No." Bobby said. "He said he wasn't, he was alert and aware the entire time and I saw no signs of a concussion."

"So, you're the medic?" Trent asked, Bobby nodded. "How did he hit his head? Stitches?"

"No." Mick said. "He was jumped up on the hill, fought her off, but left her alive."

"Her?" Sonny jumped on that. "Now, how did a woman get the jump on him? Damn that kid! Why the hell isn't she dead?"

"And if she didn't have a gun, you want him to kill her in cold blood?" Beau snarled.

"Oh, she had a weapon." Sonny shot right back. "I want to know how she got away."

"How do you know she did?" Chase asked.

"She's not here, tied up."

"We went back for her when he told us he'd left her unconscious but alive, she was gone."

"Did he tie her up?"

"I don't know."

"Least he had the balls to knock her out." Sonny sighed. "Least, he'd better have or I'll thrash his ass. How many times do I have to tell that kid? Hands are not _off_ a woman trained to fight who's trying to kill you!"

"Kill him or take him?" Brock tossed out. "Don't matter, got him anyway."

"Oh, he's getting an ass thrashing." Jason vowed. "For letting himself get taken."

"Jace, hey, he's carrying enough." Ray said.

"He made mistakes."

"And it's how he learns."

"Only if he lives to learn the lesson."

"He's hurt Jason." Ray sighed. "Cut the kid a break."

"If he wasn't unconscious and he didn't have a concussion, how did someone take him?" Trent hadn't gotten past that. "Tucked into a sleeping bag or not, he would have fought. Okay, yeah, sure, he might have been groggy from the head butt, but…"

"She, uh, split his forehead open with a rock." Bobby corrected. "Not deep enough for stitches, but yeah, she knocked him for a loop."

"Uh, a weapon." Brock said.

"He was out." Chase said. "So we moved him out of the way where we could keep an eye on him and moved the bodies so we could start cleaning up the camp."

"Good job." Sonny gave them mock thumbs-up. "Good job that. Way to keep an eye on him."

"What do you mean, he was out?" Trent faced off with Bobby and in a blink, had him by the front of his shirt, twisted the bunched material until he gasped, the collar cutting into his throat. " _What did you give him_?"

"Hey!" Karl yelled, pulling on Trent's wrist in an attempt to make him let Bobby go. "Let him go!"

"I asked what you gave him!" On his feet, Trent had the strength to move Bobby backwards until he came into hard contact with a tree. He had both hands on Bobby now, shook him violently. "You gave him something, don't you dare deny it."

"Hey!" Greg came to help Karl. "Enough! Back off!"

Mick looked at Jason, saw no helping was coming from that direction and turned to Ray. "Call him off."

"Why?" Ray shrugged. "He's a trained Tier One operator, let him fight."

"There's no reason to fight! Not again! Christ, aren't we past that?" Mick's voice rose. "Call him off."

Beau stepped in. "Hayes, call him off. Now."

"Make him answer Trent's question." Hayes replied.

"The kid was in pain, what would you have Bobby do? Ignore that?" Mick demanded.

"Trent told you he had allergies." Ray said to Beau. "Said he had his own med kit. Why the fuck would you not tell your man that and let him give Spenser something else?"

"Did you tell your medic?" Jason demanded.

Beau said nothing.

Karl and Greg succeeded in pulling Trent off Bobby because Trent let him go. Bobby moved out of range of fists and rubbed his throat.

"I only gave him morphine." He scoffed, coughing.

"You're lying." All five Bravo men said instantly.

Trent glared at Bobby. "We've kicked his ass too many times not to have gotten our message across. You gave him something."

"You're gonna have to take my word for it." Bobby sneered. "He was conscious. He knew what I was doing. I gave him morphine from his own fucking med kit. Grey with a red cross. Sound familiar?"

"I don't believe you." Trent moved in front of Bobby. "He may not be here to tell his side, but even so, I don't believe you. He told you he could only have morphine and you gave him something else."

"You're going to trust your man's actions over my man's word?" Beau questioned. "Really Hayes?"

"My men are trained Fuller." Jason stood, hands on his hips, fingers twitching. Every member of Bravo well knew just how fast those hands could lash out, deliver slaps, land a punch. "They don't lie."

"There is no way Clay was taken without a fight if he were awake and alert." Trent insisted. "Hurt or not, if he was aware of what was going on, he wouldn't have disappeared from this camp without you noticing."

Karl shifted his feet, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

"Something to say?" Ray asked him, giving him a nudge with his elbow.

"No," he muttered.

"Spit it out Karl." Beau ordered.

"It's nothing." Karl shrugged. "Sorry Bobby, but…..when he came down the hill on his ass, I offered….."

"He did what?" Trent pounced.

"He was hurt before this?" Sonny demanded.

"No!" Greg denied. "Chase fell off….over, the uh, cliff, and Clay, who was up high with Mick, saw him step off and came down the hill….."

"That hill?" Brock pointed.

"Uh, yeah." Greg took a step back.

"And he didn't strain or pull something? No road rash? Nothing?" Brock snorted.

"Go on." Ray encouraged quietly.

"He, uh, came down in a slide, went after Chase, hung over the side of...…"

"Wait, he hung upside down?" Sonny interrupted. He stuck a finger in Beau's face. " _IF_ you let that kid drink red Gatorade, then hung him upside down, the next bullet that finds you won't be a bean bag."

"Are you threatening me?" Beau slapped Sonny's hand down. "Back. Off."

"Not really. Not for long. His legs were on firm ground, but yeah, he hung over the side, pulled Chase up….." Mick was telling Trent, who, with each word was growing more and more irritated.

"On his own?" Trent shook his head.

"We were right there." Karl said defensively. "We got them up and later, I offered him some Aleve, but he said….uh….that…..it'd give him leg cramps."

"Now, that there's our boy!" Sonny cackled. "No way he didn't tell you all he could take was morphine."

"He wasn't hurt coming down the hill or pulling your man up?" Brock clarified. "Cause that doesn't seem likely to me."

"He was sore, a little stiff, but he was okay." Chase said.

"Let's just put this on the back burner and go get your boy." Mick said. "Not doing anyone any good standing around here waiting to throw punches."

"We aren't charging in after 'our boy'." Jason scowled. "They're waiting for us to go in guns blazing. We do that, we're all dead."

"We're standing around here waiting for Bobby to tell us what he gave him." Trent said. "So I know if it's something he's had before, if he threw a reaction to it, if it's safe for him to take or if it's something he's never had before."

"I didn't give him anything!" Bobby yelled. "The only injection I gave him was his own morphine."

"Why did he need morphine? Did he ask for it?" Jason asked. "A bump on the head that didn't even require stitches?" he shook his head in denial, disbelief. "Not my men."

"You…." Mick began, shaking his head when Beau leveled him with a look that told him to be quiet. "Sorry Boss, but someone came into this camp and took him. Seconds flat, and he was gone. He didn't walk away on his own and no, Trent, Bobby didn't give him any pain medication. He offered and Clay said no. But Bobby, you did spray both knife wounds with Lidocaine before you stapled him up."

Four pairs of eyes swiveled and landed on Trent who just stood and stared at Greg.

"Knife wounds?" Trent's hands curled into fists. " _ **Both?!"**_

Sonny stepped forward. "He was stabbed? And you just think to tell us that _**now**_?"

"Stabbed where?" Ray demanded.

"Stapled him up?" Brock repeated. "Clay was the one who got staples?"

"Trent, you've never given him that before, have you?" Jason asked.

"No."

"That good or bad?" Brock asked.

"Wouldn't call it good." Trent ran a hand through his hair. "No idea how he's going to react. If he throws a reaction, depends on his ability to fight through it."

"Chances of him throwing a reaction?" Ray asked.

"High." He sighed, feeling his stomach knot. Huh, so this is how Jason always feels. "Where and how many?"

Charlie all looked at Beau who remained silent, so, so did his men.

"He asked you where," Jason repeated softly, tone lethal. His men prepared, oh, they knew that tone. "Now, _answer_ _him_."

"Four staples in his right thigh, above his knee, inner." Bobby finally said. "Uh, thirteen in his gut."

"Stabbed twice, head split open, jumped, pulled into a fist-fight, came down a gravel hill on his ass, pulled a man up from a cliff, staples, shot up on morphine and you _just put him over there_?" Trent said with deceptive calmness.

Next think Bobby knew, he was sprawled on his back, he was minus a tooth and the camp erupted into an all-out brawl – Jason and Beau included.


	6. Chapter 6

You guys are the best! I'm glad you enjoy reading the stories as much I enjoy writing them!|  
Thank you for being so supportive.

* * *

The sensation of falling backwards is what first woke Clay up. Well, maybe not so much awake, more like around. At first he thought it was the dream everyone had when they're falling. But then, he felt the bumps as he was dragged backwards, his hip hitting the ground before being lifted up and carried away.

Trapped in the sleeping bag, stunned by an aching head, dulled by pain and the effects of morphine, his ability to fight free or even call out was non-existent. When he did manage to finally dig out an arm and fumble for the zipper, a cloth was pressed over his mouth and nose and despite his efforts to hold his breath and not inhale, he soon passed out, the sleeping bag carried like a litter.

When he came to again, he was standing with both feet on the floor, his arms stretched overhead, hands somehow tied together over or on something above his head. While not a painful position, his entire weight not hanging on his arms, it was not a comfortable one either. His shoulder still ached from holding Chase's weight and keeping it over his head caused pressure to build steadily, and soon, the cramps started.

Aww, shit.

Shaking off the lingering fuzziness from his still clouded brain, he looked around the room without moving his head. A shack, storage shed maybe, nothing in it but sacks of grain or animal feed. Trying to look up with just his eyes caused such a strain on his eye sockets and forehead, he groaned, then bit his lip to stifle the noise. He didn't want to make any sound that would alert someone he was awake. He could see the shed had a loft and he hung from a pulley system last seen on an Amish farm, probably used to haul bales of hay to the loft above.

He closed his eyes and squinted them tight, trying to relieve the ache that was now behind his cheeks.

Great.

He went up on tiptoes, tested the ropes around his wrists, discovered that though his hands were tied together, they were not tied around the beam or to the pulley. He was simply hung-up like a coat on a hook. So, he could get himself down. His hands would still be tied, but they'd be in front of him and his feet weren't tied, which meant he could run. He had to be in the camp, he guessed, didn't know that because he hadn't seen where they'd brought him, but it was still dark, so they hadn't gone far. He knew how to get back to Charlie….

His thought process screeched to an abrupt, complete halt.

Charlie.

Would they look for him? Come after him? Would they still be at that stupid campsite should he manage to get himself back to it? Were it Bravo out there, he wouldn't have to worry about getting himself free, they'd come after him - and they still would, no doubt, but no time soon, he'd just wait right here. Hell, they never would have let him be taken in the first place. But it wasn't Bravo, it was Charlie….yeah, Spence, you're on your own buddy.

Sighing, shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Clay raised his head, looked up at his hands. Moving his head hurt, looking up hurt, trying to see in the dim light hurt, but he could move his fingers and when he stayed on his toes, there was slack in the rope holding him to the hook in the beam.

Soooo…if his body would cooperate, he could easily hold his weight on his hands by grabbing hold of the pulley or hook, swing his feet up, cross his ankles over the beam, hang by his feet and pull his hands off the pulley. Easy, right? Yeah, maybe not. He sighed again. He knew how to do it, had done it numerous times in training, could do it effortlessly and be free within seconds…..when his shoulder wasn't giving him fits. When blinking didn't hurt. When his leg didn't burn and his gut didn't throb. When he wasn't so cold. When he didn't feel so fucking _weird_. When his heart hadn't relocated itself behind his left eye and pulsed in such a rhythm, his eye kept trying to pop right out of its socket with every beat.

Aww, fuck.

He remembered how he'd felt after pulling Chase up the cliff. The head rush, the flushing hotness that had taken forever to subside. He'd been given morphine not so long ago, it would eventually wear off and while he didn't throw reactions to it or suffer severe side effects, it did muddle his thinking and inhibit his motions. The taste in his dry mouth reminded him he'd been rendered unconscious by a smelly cloth…..ether, chloroform….this country was backwards enough those chemicals would easily be obtained.

Well, shit.

He wrapped his fingers around the pulley, got a good hold, tested pulling his weight up. Doable, even if he did wince. He heard a noise, zeroed in on the door, saw it being pulled open, went limp and let his head hang. Damn, that hurt, pulled on both shoulders, but no since letting anyone know he was awake or he'd lose the moment of surprise.

Chin to chest, cheek on shoulder, he was able to crack open one eye just enough to see what was directly in front of him.

The god-damn blonde. Hell, he should have tied the bitch up and dragged her down the hill by her hair. Her hand was bandaged and she kept it close to her side. Definitely broken. No way she grabbed him, carried him and hung him here by herself. Nuh-huh.

He closed his eye when she came straight to him, grabbed his chin and forced his head up. He didn't flinch at her touch, but boy, was that ever hard to do. She didn't do anything, just stood and stared at him, waiting.

A man bearing a lantern entered behind her. Obviously he didn't want her there, made shooing motions with his hands towards the door, speaking in a language Clay didn't recognize. Russian maybe? Didn't matter. Clay was more interested in the lantern. It was oil and flame and there was hay or straw all over the floor, easy to set fire to. If the shed went up in flames, not even Charlie could miss how the sky would light up, a beacon to his location.

They were arguing and soon lapsed into broken English. She wanted to kill him and the man wanted to use him as bait and wait for his men to come after him, then kill all those, 'bloody, interfering Americans' who had taken the lives of five of their friends.

Joke's on you asshole, Clay thought. Bravo will come after me alive or dead. Will take them awhile, but they will find you. Charlie, well, they would 'assess the situation, call in to report, wait for a search and rescue team to be deployed'.

"Who are you?" she asked, poking him in the belly. Yeah, with his arms stretched over his head, his shirt exposed his belly, the bandage easily visible. "Why do you bother us? What is it you want? What do you think we have?"

Ugh, how did he always end up in situations like this?

He felt fingers brush against his throat, he didn't tense, but was ready to hoist himself up so he could kick out with his feet, but all the fingers did was dig the chain around his neck out from under his shirt.

"Army tags." The man cursed. "American Army. They always come for their man. We wait. Kill them all."

The blonde stormed out, letting the door slam behind her. The bitch took the lantern with her. The man made the stupid mistake of assuming since his captive was tied up, hung from a hook and seemingly unconscious, he was no threat, so he didn't move away when he ordered Clay to wake up with a hard slap across his exposed cheek.

Wrong.

Without a sound, Clay grabbed the pulley, pulled himself up, kicked out and wrapped his legs around the man's head. His weight off his shoulders, he lifted his hands off the pulley, grabbed the beam and used his thigh muscles to cut off the man's ability to breathe.

He hadn't spent hours besting those 'country blokes' in the local bar back home riding the mechanical bull for nothing. He'd gained strong thigh muscles from all that riding even though he was tossed off head-over-heels every god-damn single time Sonny took over the controls.

The man gasped, flailed with his fists, tried to punch and hit at Clay's feet, calves, knees, but to no avail. Clawed at the bandage around his thigh, causing the staples to pull taunt, making his quad muscle quiver, his grip weaken, but Clay held tight, grunting through the pain until finally, the man weakened, passed out and went slack.

He thought about breaking the man's neck, but Jason would want someone alive, so when his knees buckled and his body tried to sink to the floor, Clay let go of the beam and let his weight fall with the man's. It was an easier descent to the floor then jumping down on feet with no boots with his hands tied and unable to assist with balance.

He checked the man's pockets but found nothing. A quick search of the shed revealed nothing he could use to cut the ropes from his hands. Using his teeth, he shredded a burlap feed sack into strips and awkwardly hog-tied and gagged the man then dragged him to the farthest, darkest corner and blocked him from view with several bags.

Done with that exhausting chore, Clay sat shaking on the floor, trying to catch his breath, wishing for water or coffee, something to drink; a warm shirt, boots, his pants, his sat phone, something, anything that offered the comfort of familiarity.

"Navy, you asshole." Clay dropped his dog tags back under his shirt. "Not Army." He pressed the back of one hand against the bruised bump on his forehead. "And damn right we come after our own."

Still weak and shaky, now well aware just how many stomach muscles were used to strangle a man with his legs, he pushed to his feet, eased the door open and slipped out into the coming dawn.

***000***

"You're going after him?" Beau said. Charlie stood on one side of the fire, Bravo the other.

No one answered him.

Their breath caught, the minor injuries attended, Bravo gathered their shit, Clay's belongings, geared up and left the camp.

"You letting them go?" Mick asked. "You need to call this in, who the hell knows what Bravo's told Blackburn."

"Hayes can go to hell." Beau said. "I don't care what the hell he puts in his report."

"Spenser is still missing." Chase said. "We just can't leave him out there."

"So is my tooth." Bobby growled.

"Mine too." Karl added. "And we aren't." he told Chase. "Bravo can find him."

"Go with them if you want." Beau turned away. "We're done here."

"Are you heading back down?" Mick asked. "Beau, come on. I know Hayes is a dick, but if Spenser comes back to this campsite, someone should be there."

"Then someone from Bravo should have stayed." Karl looked at Beau, he was willing to hike out. So was Bobby. But Greg looked uncertain.

"I'll call it in." Beau sighed. He didn't like Hayes, wasn't fond of anyone on Bravo, but he wouldn't turn his back on any Seal who was in need. "We'll wait here until they find the kid."

Jason had stopped but his men had gone on. "He'd better be alive when we find him, or your career's over."

"Why are you even here?" Beau spat angrily. "This is our mission! Jesus Christ, you don't know when to leave something to someone else!"

"I don't care about your mission." Jason sighed. "I told you to look out for him. I told you not to let anything happen to him. I told you he was young and stupid and still learning." he shook his head. "I let him go with you because I thought it'd be good for him to see how other teams ran. Guess he wasn't impressed."

"And he just had to call home, cry to daddy, whine about how awful camping with the big boys was."

"He called Eric to ask permission to watch the target overnight." Jason corrected. "Eric agreed twenty minutes was not long enough to decide what that camp is."

"Had Eric said no, he wouldn't have gone up there?" Karl snorted, "Not buying it."

"He's our kid." Jason said. "He obeys orders."

"You still haven't said why you're here." Bobby spoke up.

"I don't trust your boss." Jason stared Beau down, "Didn't trust him not to let the kid go high on his own. Soon as Eric told us what Spenser said, we headed out."

"All because you thought he _might_ be on watch alone?" Karl spit blood in the dirt. Damn, now he'd have to see the dentist. God damn this fucking team.

"Wow." Beau said in disbelief. "A six hour hike, at night, in this weather because you didn't like what you _thought_ I _might_ not do? You're insane Hayes."

"Had we known he was missing, we would have come in by chopper, our actions sanctioned by Command, but you didn't call it in, did you?"

"Get out of here." Beau retorted. "Get out of my face, just go the fuck away."

"Roger that." Jason said softly and melted away.

"Go!" Beau waved Mick on. Did Hayes really believe he'd leave that kid out there without attempting to find him? Not do everything he could to get him back? Okay, yeah, Bravo had arrived right when it was sinking in Charlie had nearly been killed in their sleep, but come on, they would have re-grouped and gone after the kid. And no, no they wouldn't abandon the campsite because yes, he knew if Clay managed to escape on his own, that is where he would return.

Mick nodded, and with Chase, set out after Bravo.

()

"Rain poncho." Ray said. "Thermos, peanut butter granola bars, yeah, I'd say he was gonna watch for several hours."

"Saw movement, moved to site in on Charlie." Brock said. He looked up, shook his head. "She jumped him from the trees." He picked up a knife, flung far aside. "This what she stabbed him with?"

Trent took the knife from Brock. "He wasn't stabbed." He announced. "Not with this anyway, or he'd be dead. This would have gutted him. Sharp as shit."

Mick looked at Chase.

"Never said he was stabbed." Mick objected. "That was the conclusion you jumped to. I said knife wounds."

"She slashed him." Trent agreed, not at all miffed to be corrected over his original mistaken assumption. In fact, it made him happy. "Thigh not as deep because of his pants, got it." He tucked the knife into his backpack. So slash versus stabbed meant less chance of muscle or tendon damage, which meant Clay was in better shape then he'd thought after hearing the list of their kid's injuries.

Chase looked at Mick, who shrugged. Both had expected another temper explosion from someone, but since apparently Trent wasn't concerned, neither was anyone else. Mick kept it to himself, but he was impressed how Trent had reasoned out Clay's wounds just by seeing the knife. What kind of medic was he? Oh right, wait, he wasn't a medic.

Bravo went flat in the grass. All five propped up their elbows and watched the camp below throw night vision binoculars, called out what they saw: the number of buildings, no farm equipment, few animals – cows, several horses, a pig, a goat, chickens, no roads in or out, lack of generator, no sign of antenna's or evidence of any source of communication, barn big enough to house ATV's. They all agreed; the amateur made camp was completely off grid.

"How do you think they communicate?"

"Sat phone?"

"No way to charge it."

"Homing pigeon." Sonny pushed up. "Who the fuck cares? Not our problem, not our mission. I see no movement. I say, we go in. They got him, it would be one of those three sheds."

"Agreed." Ray said. "Wouldn't take him to one of the houses."

"Not really a house." Trent muttered. "Or a shed."

"Split into three." Jason said. "Trent, Brock, the middle. Ray, with me on the left, Sonny, babysit dumb and dumber on the right. In and out, got me? We're only looking for the kid."

Since Bravo had arrived, Mick had not seen anyone connect to comms. With them being all dressed in black, he couldn't see the communication sets and began to wonder if they even had them with them. Wouldn't surprise him if they didn't, they weren't out here on an official mission. Then again, they hadn't been out of one another's sight either and they had more than one sat phone...no, they had them, he'd bet on it. Jason Hayes would never willingly separate from command or Eric Blackburn.

With the motion of one black-gloved hand, Jason gave the order to go and four Bravo oozed away into the night.

Sonny didn't wait for Mick or Chase, just silently slithered his way down the hill, crossed the clearing, kept to the shadows of various buildings until he reached his destination and slipped inside without making a noise. By the time Mick and Chase followed, Sonny had disappeared from sight.

"Boss." Sonny whispered, keying in. "You're gonna wanna come see this."

They both turned around to see that Sonny had climbed the rickety ladder into the loft and stood staring down at a spilled bag of feed. Chase looked at Mick who shrugged. See what?

Mick crept forward, rounded the bags of feed and saw what had Sonny calling for his boss. An unconscious man, hog-tied and gagged.

Trent and Brock arrived first. Trent knelt beside the man, felt for a pulse.

"He's alive."

"Clay was here." Brock fist-bumped Sonny. "Think he got loose?"

"Wanna say I'm happy he did, but then wish he hadn't." Sonny sighed. "Now, he's out there in the dark and we have to spend more time in this damn rain tracking his ass."

"It's nearly dawn." Chase said. "Wouldn't he head back to our campsite?"

Sonny harrumphed. "Does he have reason to believe you wouldn't have up and left him?"

"Oh, Fuck You!" Mick snarled. "You are a fucking ass."

Jason and Ray joined them, reported the same that Brock and Trent had, they'd found nothing and seen no one.

"Look what we found." Sonny jerked his head toward the bound man. "Alive."

Ray sighed, looking at Trent, who met his gaze and shook his head.

"He's not here Ray, if he got free, he ran." Trent shrugged, hands out. "He doesn't know we're here."

"And if he did?" Mick demanded. "That makes a difference?"

"If he knew we were five minutes away from where he was taken, he'd wait here for us to come get him." Jason rubbed his hands through his hair. "He thinks he's on his own."

"He'd head back to Charlie." Brock said. "If he could."

"Why couldn't he?" Chase asked.

"He's cold, he's hurt, and we don't know what they might have done to him." Trent said, slicing through the binds on the captive's feet. "They haven't had him long, but that doesn't mean they didn't hurt him."

"You two take him back to your campsite." Jason ordered as Ray nudged and toed the man to bring him around. "See what you can get out of him. Sonny, go with Trent and Brock, trek up the hill. Ray and I will take the cliff."

Sonny and Brock hauled the groggy man to his feet and handed him off to Chase.

Trent nodded but hesitated. "Uh Boss, remember, he's probably disoriented. Fuzzy-headed with a headache. May or may not be confused from the Lidocaine. No, it wasn't a lot or a strong doze, but he's in pain and muddled from morphine, he could be anywhere."

"Find him." Jason ordered. "Do what you have to."

"Any means?" Sonny questioned.

"Don't get killed." Jason replied.

Whatever that was all about, Mick shrugged. Bravo speak. Eh. "Where's your wonder dog?" he asked sarcastically. "He-who-can-track-anyone."

"Anyone on Bravo." Brock corrected. "We need him, Eric will fly in with him."

"Fly?" Chase echoed. "Wait, you didn't bring him?"

"Have you seen him?" Sonny shook his head. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Ray shook his head. "Be careful, the woman is out here somewhere and she probably isn't alone. Someone carried Clay from your campsite."

***000***

Clay woke up gradually. The first few times he became slightly conscious, he was confused and disoriented, unaware of where he was or what had happened and he just passed out again. But each time he came around, he became more aware, more alert, knew more and finally, blinked his eyes open to sight, sound and smell, even if it was all somewhat muted.

It wasn't all that dark anymore.  
He was cold.  
He was wet – no, damp – make that wet.  
He was flat on his belly.  
His shoulders hurt.  
His belly hurt.  
His thighs hurt, his right more than his left.  
His head hurt. Hurt so much, he didn't dare move it.  
Felt if he tried to move, he'd puke. Been there. Done that before so many times. Didn't want to do it now.  
He was wearing boxer briefs and a black t-shirt.

At first he panicked, unable to think why he wouldn't be wearing his pants…..or his boots, but then he remembered Bobby helping him out of his pants, Karl his boots. He took a chance and wiggled his toes. He still wore his socks, Lisa would be proud!

Right, socks that when wet, were itchy and slippery and hadn't gripped the wet grass on the opposite side of the ditch he'd tried to jump.

Ow! Oh, ugh…..great. Right, staples. Yeech. Oh, and his head…ow. Must have whacked it - again.

A tough situation and he had to depend on Charlie to come to his rescue.

He picked his head up, bit his lip against the rush of vertigo, waited for his head to clear, laid it back down when it didn't. Yeah, he wasn't moving anytime soon. At most, if he puked, he might be able to roll over away from it, but yeah, even that didn't look promising.

" _Why'd you miss returning to transport Spenser?" He mimicked Eric's voice._

 _"Oh, was just, you know, lying around."_

 _"Why'd you let that chic stab you?" Now he imitated Sonny's drawl. "Didn't I teach you better? You don't hesitate, you knock the bitch out."_

 _"Trying to ensure future generations of Spensers."_

 _"Didn't I tell you not to let them give you anything?" He copied Trent's dry tone. "The hell Spenser! You go and get hurt and it's not the injury I gotta worry about!"_

 _"Oh you know, head split open from a rock is all. See? I got's an owie."_

 _"Spenser, what did I tell you about watching over your head?" He said in his best Jason voice._

 _"Kinda was, you know, trying to save Charlie, Boss."_

He should get up, figure out where he was, how to get back to Charlie's camp, hope they hadn't left without him. It was dawn, he was going to miss returning to transport with Charlie. Eric would have a fit, but his head hurt and he didn't feel good and he really, _really,_ didn't feel up to a six-hour hike. He'd sleep a bit, arrive a little late, no big deal, right?

He frowned, he was thinking about…what again? Ow, don't do that Clay, hurts to move your face, remember that. Don't even blink or sniff, let your nose run. Yeah, just go back to sleep…...no one here to stop you.

His last thought was he wanted it to be Bravo who came after him, found him, not Charlie.

()

"Bravo One, anything?" Eric asked. He and Lisa were impatient, last hearing from Jason when Jason had keyed in to advise him that Charlie had 'misplaced their kid' and they intended to go into Charlie's camp 'guns blazing'.

"On his trail." Ray replied. "We clear?"

"Affirmative." Eric answered. "Just me and Davis on this line. Speak freely."

"Got one from the target camp alive," Jason added. "Left him in care of Charlie, five didn't make it."

"How many unaccounted for?"

"At least one female."

"Not just a farm?" Davis asked.

"Not just a farm." Ray confirmed.

"Charlie team?" Eric asked.

"Missing a couple of teeth, bruised. All good." Ray answered. "Beau should call in."

"Are you going to need retrieval?"

"Keep 'em on stand-by." Trent joined the conversation. "No idea what condition he'll be in when he find him."

"Is there reason to believe he's injured?" Davis asked, looking at Eric who was already nodding.

"He was injured before they lost him." Jason answered. "Cut the chatter. One out."

()

Clay stirred, coming awake at the cold rain that raised goosebumps on his skin. He'd only been out mere minutes, but he had no way of knowing that.

It, his head, hurt – he hurt – and his ability to think, to concentrate, to tell time, to know how to do what he knew had to be done was just beyond his mental reach. He couldn't stay where he was, but he didn't know why or what to do about it. That it was cold and daylight and he was out in the open, wet and exposed just didn't mean anything to him.

He knew he had to return to Charlie's campsite even if he didn't expect them to be there, and he knew where it was, it was that way, no…that way, maybe over there…..shit. He moved his hands, they were over his head and resisted. He inched his head just enough he could look up, brought his hands into line with his vision, oh, look at that…..that was a rope, his hands were…tied?….god-damn Sonny Quinn! If that sonofabitch had put Clay's hands in a bowl of warm water…

He drifted off, snippets of memories crowding his thoughts; he was outside, it was dark, Beau was an ass, he was lying on his belly with binoculars, watching, no wonder Jason didn't respect or like Beau…..he was hanging on a hook, the damn blonde - never again would he hesitate because his attacker was female, someone slapped him…..he was cold, shivering….and that hurt…..made his teeth chatter, which made his head ache, which made him hear things.

"GOD DAMMIT SPENSER! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT HERE! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! CLAY! DON'T MAKE ME COME AFTER YOU! YOU WON'T LIKE ME IF I HAVE TO FIND YOU?"

Because that sure as hell sounded like Trent…...

* * *

One more to go!


	7. Chapter 7

"CLAY?! CAN YOU HEAR ME? ANSWER ME SPENSER!"

"This is bullshit! He can't have gone far." Sonny said, frustrated. He trailed behind and to the left of Trent and Brock, fell further behind. He raised his voice and shouted. "IF I HAVE I TO REPEL DOWN THAT CLIFF IN SEARCH OF YOUR ASS, YOU BETTER HOPE TO HELL I FIND YOU AT THE BOTTOM OF IT! YOU HEAR ME CLAY?"

"Anything?" Ray keyed in. "We got nothing. No blood, no footprints, no broken twigs or trees missing bark."

"Nada." Brock replied. "Same here. Nothing."

"We re-grouping? Plan a raid on the camp? Call in for back-up?" Sonny joined the conversation. He really liked this party-line open mic thing they had going on where they could all hear one another. "No one has come after us."

"Their numbers might be too low now." Ray mused. "Don't see how one woman can do anything on her own."

"Booby-trap a building, blow us up." Brock muttered.

"True that." Ray agreed way too cheerfully for Sonny's limited patience.

"Spread out further." Jason ordered.

Sonny split off from trailing Trent and Brock, took a different direction.

"When I get my hands on that kid…" Sonny stomped across the wet grass, cursing the rain, the cold, the mist, the fog rolling in. Wasn't that just great? He just bet they'd find the kid and Eric would tell them choppers were grounded due to fog. "Tell you what, you go and get yourself lost again….." Maybe they should have brought the dog, but strong and fit as Cerb was, it was still a six hour hike up here. Eric had promised he would fly in with the dog if they needed him. "Make me tromp through this wet, tangled shit after your ass…can't stand being wet."

Their kid was somewhere in these woods, this forest, this jungle, this hell-hole. Somewhere among this undergrowth, these gullies and ditches and ravines and hills and cliffs…..dear God what if the kid had gone over the cliff, fallen to the bottom?

In this cold, in this rain, in his condition, he wouldn't be able to hold on until they could get to him. He didn't even know Bravo was here, had come for him _now_.

They'd repel down the cliff if they had to, but Eric would send in their support team via chopper with Cerberus before it came to that…..he prayed. He swallowed, coughed to clear his suddenly thick throat. Dammit!

"SPENSER! WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU'RE GONNA CRY FOR YOUR MOMMY!" after I hug you, and tug on your hair, make sure you're okay. "CLAY! COME ON DUDE! I'M WET AND I WANT OFF THIS FUCKING MOUNTIAN!"

Clay moaned, hearing the voices yelling his name, calling to him. At first he thought he heard Trent yelling for him, then Sonny, but now the voices were strange, garbled, no longer sounded familiar and though they knew his name, he didn't know the voices shouting it.

He needed to hide. Why, he didn't know, but he knew that he needed to. Hell, that didn't make sense, maybe he didn't know anything. Good God, all this trying to think made his head hurt, made him want to puke.

Hide where?

He was in a ditch, he supposed he could crawl over to that patch of thicket, roll under the brambles. It would scratch him up a bit, catch on his clothes, but he'd be out of sight. Could wait there, get some sleep, let his head clear. Maybe he'd feel better when he woke up. It'd be warmer, the misty rain wouldn't be as heavy and he could…..

Pain stabbed his belly and he lost his thoughts. Like a dog who stopped to scratch an itch and forgot what he was doing or where he was going, Clay had no idea what'd he been thinking or planning to do.

He regained his knees, intent on crawling where, he no longer knew, but both his skin and the muscles in his belly stopped any forward attempt at movement. Holy shit, he panted, trying to breathe. Okay, here was good.

He froze, held his breath, heard footsteps crunching leafs and twigs, dislodging stones in the sloppy mud. The footsteps were so close, he heard the mud squelch when it reluctantly released the booted foot for another step.

Shit.

He carefully, slowly, gingerly, belly-crawled his way up the bank. If he could reach the top of the ditch, maybe he would find bushes he could hide under or behind.

"CLAY! IT'S ME, TRENT!" Trent bellowed. "IF YOU COME OUT, I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING FOR YOUR HEADACHE!"

 _Trent? His Trent? Here?_

Well, sure then, if you put it that way…..Clay's weak grip on the root he had hold of to assist his ascent up the hill wavered, he began to let go….he'd go to Trent even without the promise of relief from his headache.

"CLAY? DAMMIT! COME ON!"

"You think he can hear you?" Brock asked.

"Hell, I don't know. Thought we'd find him by now," Trent didn't want to appear concerned because then his team would pick up on how he felt and everyone would worry. "Jason isn't going to be patient much longer."

"You think he's fucked-up? Doesn't know what is and isn't? Doesn't believe we're here?"

"Don't think he's just going to appear out of nowhere and land….." Trent began.

Clay yelped as his foot slipped in the grass, his already bruised, split forehead smacking the ground and forcing him to let go of the root completely. He panicked, and grappled for a hold, a tuft of grass, something, anything to keep himself from falling back into the ditch, but nope, there was nothing. He slipped backwards on his belly, down the wet grass, through the mud, stopping when his hip rolled into a pair of booted feet.

"…...at our feet." Trent finished. "Clay?!"

"BOSS!" Brock yelled.

Brock keyed his comms, repeated they had Clay, set aside his rifle, shrugged out of his backpack and pulled his hoodie over his head. Jason caught him leaving Trent and Clay unprotected even for a minute, he'd run hills for a month, but the kid was freezing and Brock's only thought was to do what he had to, to get Clay warm.

"GOD DAMN YOU CHARLIE!" Brock shouted. "WHERE THE HELL ARE HIS CLOTHES? I'M SERIOUSLY GOING TO HURT SOMEONE! YOU HEAR ME?!"

Trent went to his knees, rolled Clay over onto his back, reached for Clay's hands, smacked at his cheek. Clay winced, squirming away, tugging on his hands that once again didn't obey his commands to respond.

"Clay? Hey, it's me, Trent. We've got you." Trent took the hoodie from Brock. "Clay? Fight through it, come on. You can do it, focus your eyes. Listen to me. I'm right here. Don't fight me."

"He with it?" Brock reached for his rifle but Trent shook him off. Sonny would catch up in seconds and would have their backs. "What?" Brock's knees went weak and he felt a splurge of panic. "Christ Trent, _don't_ say he isn't breathing! Tell me he's alive!"

"Yeah, he's breathing. Take him so I can look him over." Trent easily pulled Clay up from the wet grass and handed him over to Brock's willing arms, tucking the hoodie over Clay's shoulders and arms, down to his belly, then took off his own. Both his and Brock's were damp, but water repellant, so the fleece lining was dry. "Hold and hug, he needs your body heat, let him take it."

Brock didn't need encouraging, didn't care about the mud or how dirty holding Clay made him. "Hey now. Watch your head, just keep it still, okay?" He held Clay's hands out for Trent to cut the rope. "Bet that feels better, huh?"

Trent tossed the cut ropes aside, pocketed the knife and holding Clay's hands in one of his, spun around on his knees for the backpack he'd discarded when he'd taken off his hoodie.

Jason came over the comms. "Trent? Brock? Tell me you got him."

"We got him. Follow the ditch." Trent keyed in, mumbling around the flashlight now between his teeth. Brock had his hands full of wet, shivering Clay. "Ten fingers, ten nails, no broken bones. Wrists scraped up from the rope, nothing bad." He told Brock who, once Trent was done with his inspection of Clay's hands, began to rub his hands up and down Clay's arms with the loose sleeves of the hoodie. "Awww, kid, your head."

Brock looked down, saw the bruise, the swelling in the beam of the flashlight. Guessed there was a fair amount of blood mixed with the mud. If there'd been a Band-Aid or tape or any kind of bandage holding the gash together and protect it, it was long gone. His eye wasn't black or swelled shut, but his eyelid, eyebrow and forehead were grotesquely swollen.

"Shit, that's gotta hurt." Brock stopped rubbing, gave Clay a hug, tucked the hoodie back around the kid and began to rub again. "Think he's knocked senseless?"

"Mmmm, maybe. Has one hell of a headache." Trent reached for Clay's soaked t-shirt. "Sit him up a bit? He should start to come around, he warms up, dries off."

Brock took hold of Clay by his upper arms to move him away so Trent could get his shirt off, but Clay protested. He didn't want to move and resisted Brock's attempts to make him sit up.

Brock looked up at Trent with a grin. Trent looked back, baffled.

"He has my shirt." Brock explained with a laugh. "And he ain't letting go. Always has to hold onto something." He held his fist out.

Trent grinned back, bumped fists with Brock. He could just cut the t-shirt off and not make Clay break his hold, but he wanted Clay to put the other hoodie on and it didn't have a zipper. Course, he could cut it up the front, that would give easy access to the staples in Clay's belly, but it would also gape open and Trent wanted him warm.

He cut the t-shirt off. "Come on here kid, let go." he tugged at Clay's hand gently, succeeding only in making Clay tighten his fist. "No? Okay, gimme your other hand." He was hoping once Clay felt the soft warmth of the sleeve on one arm, he'd let go of Brock and slide his arm through the second sleeve.

***000***

Sonny heard Trent report to Jason that he and Brock had Clay and follow the ditch. So he did. He wasn't that far behind Trent and Brock, would reach them before Jason and Ray did.

Yes, they'd taken a calculated risk when they'd decided to call out for Clay, but they kid was lost and cold and hurt and most likely confused and disoriented from breaking rocks with his head. How else were they going to find him? He had a tendency to hide when he wasn't coherent. Tough shit if Charlie didn't like Bravo's methods.

"Howdy, you blonde bitch." He pressed the muzzle of his .9mm against the back of the blonde's head. He'd unexpectedly come up behind her watching activity in the ditch. He hadn't been looking for her, but he'd found her. "What'cha thinkin' about?" Something had finally gone their way.

What the hell did she think she was going to do? Kill all three with a pistol? Wouldn't happen. She might get a shot off in this mist and fog and _if_ she was an excellent shot, might even hit Brock or Trent, but she wouldn't live to see what happened next. Neither would miss, they shot at her.

"He killed five of us." She spoke with an accent, Russian he guessed. "Dom is missing." She didn't move. " _He_ broke my hand."

He being Clay, Sonny assumed. "Why didn't you kill him when you took him?" Sonny asked. "Hands up, turn around, nice and slow." Why even take Clay? Why hadn't this group just gone in to the campsite and tried again to kill everyone? Eh, not his problem, it was Charlie's.

"I wanted to. Dom said no, we wait. You come for him, we kill you all."

"Yeah, see, that's not gonna happen." The thing Sonny liked most about having taken one captive alive? You didn't need two. He hesitated, but not over throwing a punch and knocking her out cold. It was over whether or not to leave her alive. With a sigh of disappointment, his fist shot out, clipped her chin and she crumpled in a heap. "AND THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE SPENSER!"

***000***

"Jason? You good?" Ray asked when Jason didn't immediately turn towards the ditch. "Something wrong?"

"Just thinking, this whole shit-shebang isn't our mess to clean up this time." He rubbed his jaw, gave Ray a grin. "We're walking our dog, we get to go back to base, have supper. Charlie has a target to secure, reports to write, action to call in."

"Not that easy boss." Ray slapped his shoulder. "They're gonna wanna talk to Clay, so, let's go see how our boy's doing."

"You ever lose that kid in a bet again," Jason began.

Ray put his hands up, shook his head. "Lesson learned Boss."

***000***

"Weeelllll, lookee here." Sonny stood at the top of the ditch, looking down. He watched for a moment, smiling as he watched Trent attempt to wrestle Clay's hands into the sleeves of the hoodie. He didn't start down the bank to join them until he was sure he could keep the smile from his face. "He okay there Trent?"

"I'll feel better when he's warm and dry." Trent muttered. "Watch his head." He had one sleeve on, the hoodie pulled up to Clay's shoulder. "Need your hand a minute Clay. Let go….let…..hey, let go of Brock."

Clay heard him, he did. Knew the voice, even if he didn't understand the words. He tried to follow the order, obey the hands pulling and tugging but he just couldn't figure out what they wanted from him. The words 'let go', meant nothing to him.

"Clay? Sonny's here." Trent coaxed. "Come on, get with it. Hey, hey…..wait…what….no….gimme your hand."

So were Mick and Chase though they hung back and kept watch. They'd met up with Sonny and Greg had taken the blonde to return to Beau at their campsite.

Bravo knew how to manipulate and coax Clay into doing what they wanted when he was unresponsive and reluctant or even combative. Sonny set his rifle aside and knelt down next to Brock who again juggled Clay's weight away from his chest – every time he did so, Clay went limp and attempted to flop right back – and towards Sonny.

Clay let go of Brock for the transfer from one warm body to another but before Sonny could pull him close, Trent and Brock wrangled him into the second sleeve of the hoodie and had it over his head within seconds, leaving the hood up and pulling the strings tight so it wouldn't fall off. Clay's hair was still wet, but the hood protected him from the damp, constant mist and slight wind that just would not stop.

"You tie them under his chin and I'll knock you on your ass." Sonny growled.

Trent smirked, tied the strings into a bow, gave Sonny a salute.

"How is he?" Sonny asked quietly, cheek resting against Clay's hooded head. "He with it? Know you? Say anything?"

"Hasn't come around yet. You okay to keep hold of him?" Trent asked, knowing damn well Sonny wasn't about to give the kid up unless Trent told him he needed to so Trent could keep looking him over. He wouldn't call him on it though. None of them ever did, no matter who it was. Bravo didn't roll that way.

"If I have to." Sonny sighed.

"He could use the body heat." Was all Trent said. Clay would be fine on his back on the ground and they all knew it, but no one was going to admit it. And if Sonny wanted to give him up, well Brock would just take him back.

Brock wrapped and tucked the second hoodie over and around Clay's feet and calves, rubbed briskly. "Think he warms up, he'll comes around, see it's us?" Trent nodded, shrugged, nodded.

"How bad's his head, you think?" Sonny asked. "Should we be worried?" he could feel Clay shivering, hoped that even though he was still wet, Clay would begin to warm up a bit since he was held against a warm body.

With Sonny content to hold Clay, Brock pulled out a LED flashlight and held it so Trent could see what he was doing.

"Dunno yet, working on taking a look. Cloth of cold water would help the swelling." Trent was saying. He was pressing and thumbing Clay's cheek bone and the hollow beneath his eye. Clay murmured what might have been 'no' and 'don't', but didn't attempt to either pull away or slap at Trent's hand. "Worried? He's conscious. But I don't like it." He thumbed between Clay's eyebrows, above his nose, elicited a deep groan. "I know, I know, you don't like that, sorry."

"You think he didn't need stitches?" Brock asked. "Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"Thinking he smacked his head a time or two or five after she bashed him with a rock." Trent decided to let off poking at the gash and his head until he saw whether or not a cloth of cold water reduced the swelling. Maybe by then, Clay would be awake and talking.

"Why's he shivering?" Sonny complained.

"Because he's cold." Trent chuckled. "He'll warm up." He stuck his hands inside the hood on Clay's head, carefully pulled his fingers through the kids tangled hair, searching for lumps and bumps or cuts and sore spots. "Clay? Can you talk to me yet?"

Chase was amazed how well Trent spoke around the flashlight in his mouth. He kept waiting for it to fall, but it didn't. His attention was divided between watching Trent, hoping Clay was okay and keeping watch for anyone approaching them that shouldn't be.

Sonny held the kid tight against his chest with one arm, alternated rubbing Clay's arms and chest with his other hand. When Clay didn't tense or flinch from Trent's touch, Sonny adjusted the kid's weight, easing him off his hip.

"What we got?" Jason was squatting on his haunches behind Sonny. "He with it?" He'd come up with Ray, waved Mick off. He knew about the blonde, Sonny having keyed in over comms.

"No." Trent was cutting the bandage around Clay's belly, the hoodie pushed up his chest and held there by Sonny. The water-proof tape was loose and the gauze pad just fell off. The skin was red and inflamed, several of the staples had pulled out, but those that remained held the wound together. Slight bleeding, but nothing severe. "He's not in any danger, but he's cold. He'll come around quicker, he's warm." Maybe if he said that enough times, he'd believe it himself. Hell, might even work!

"Taking him up to the campsite?" Ray asked.

Trent pulled the hoodie down over Clay's belly. Nothing he could do about the staples out here. Clay had moaned and flinched away, squirming against Sonny's hold when Trent had pressed and pinched along his belly. Making him sit up and pulling him away from the comfort and warmth of Sonny to wrap another bandage around him was unnecessary.

"Eric on his way?"

"Roughly 30 minutes out." Ray answered. "Coming with Bravo support to help Charlie clean up so we don't have to."

"You got water?" Ray nodded. "Soak a cloth, hold it to his head." Trent said. "Carefully, he's touchy." Clay turned his head away, attempted to bury his face between Sonny's arm and chest, moaned when his forehead hit something hard. Even though his eyes remained closed, he didn't like the bright lights from two flashlights. "We'll stay here, can't toss him over Sonny's shoulder. Not with staples in his belly. Not with that bump on his head, hang him upside down now, he'll puke and pass out."

Jason shrugged out of his backpack, unzipped a pocket, pulled out a bottle of water, took the cloth Ray was holding out and soaked it.

"Clay?" Jason said quietly. "Hey there, kid. Easy." He gently brought Clay's face away from Sonny's shoulder by a light two-finger touch on his chin. Clay resisted at first, liking the feel of the material beneath his cheek that, though at first had been rough and damp, was now soft and warm. "That's it."

"Damn!" Ray whistled. Neither flashlight was directly in Clay's face but even in the shadow of the beam's edges, the swelling was visible. "Jesus Trent!"

It wasn't Trent's fault and Ray knew that, but if any of them knew how bad it was, surely it was Trent and he wasn't answering, so that made Ray even more uneasy.

"Got him?" Jason asked Sonny, who nodded. He really didn't expect Clay to thrash or attempt to bolt from his arms, but with this kid, you just never knew.

Clay pulled away with a whimper before Jason even touched him. Sonny pushed the hood back and Jason gently pressed the cold, wet cloth against the swollen bruise. Released from Sonny's one-arm hug, Clay slumped down to get away from the pressure against his head.

"Hey, hey, where you going?" Jason reached to pick him up with one arm, Sonny let Clay go and took the cloth to hold. "Come here." He let Clay lay on his side over Sonny's thigh, his cheek resting against Jason's leg. When Clay twisted his fingers around the material below Jason's knee and moaned because the cloth remained firm against his forehead, Jason gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Mmmmm." Trent said in response to Ray. With Clay on his side, he moved the hoodie that covered his legs. Clay stirred, feeling hands on his knee, his thigh. He missed the warmth when the hoodie left his lap and moved in protest, blabbing nonsense as he reached with his free hand to stop Trent. "Cold water will help the swelling subside, won't hurt as much then."

"Damn mist, wish we could get him out of it." Brock sighed, hunching his shoulders. "Sucks."

"Not happening." Ray stated. "Unless you want to take the camp."

"Would rather not move him." Jason said. Or leave him while we do so. "Chopper isn't far out. We run into trouble, we'll take the camp."

Clay didn't like Trent poking at his leg. Trent had cut the bandage off and the tape and gauze pad, both wet through, came off with it. When he leaned closer, Brock moving the flashlight so they could see, Clay brought his thighs together, blocking Trent's view.

"Hey Clay, just me, your ole buddy Trent." Trent jostled Clay's good leg. It was time to try and bring Clay around. "You with me? Gotta let me see."

Clay didn't open his eyes. Didn't relax. Didn't spread his legs. Didn't turn towards Trent. Didn't let go of Jason, but lifted his head to rest his chin on Jason's leg.

"No." he squeezed his eyes shut, whimpered at the action. "Ow."

"Can you tell me how you feel?" Trent asked. "Clay? Hey come on, keep coming out of it."

Clay was quiet, didn't move. Trent again jostled his good leg.

"Clay? Talk to me. How do you feel?"

"Dizzy….in the head and I'm feeling….. bad." Clay sang in tune despite a slurring. "…..argh….mmmmm…"

"Scorpions." Brock told a baffled Sonny.

"Where?" Clay jerked, trying to lift his head but the distance and effort was too great and he scrunched his nose with a moan. That hurt his head and he groaned, moving uneasily.

"The Who." Jason corrected, hand on Clay's shoulder to still his movements. "Stay still."

"Whoa there sunshine, where you trying to go?" Sonny pulled the hoodie down over Clay's belly. Every time he moved – and he moved a lot – it rode up.

"Don't….wanna….stung….by…..bug."

"There are no scorpions here Clay." Trent assured him. "No bugs. Jason and Brock are talking about rock bands, now stay still so I can see your leg, okay?"

"Okay."

Cold, wet, in pain, still confused, Clay's thoughts were: get warm, get out of the rain, find a position to lie that didn't make him hurt and go to sleep. He felt his knees pried apart and jerked, feet digging into wet grass to gain leverage to push up and away.

"Hey," Sonny set the cloth aside, used both hands to pull Clay off his lap and make him sit up. Clay didn't fight the hold, but neither did he let go of Jason. "Spenser, look at me. You see me? It's me, Sonny."

But it was Jason Clay was facing and his boss who he finally focused on, his boss he finally recognized.

"Boss." Clay raised a hand towards his aching head, was stopped, tugged on the material still in his other fist. "I'm cold."

"Right here." Jason assured him. "We'll get you warm, soon as you let Trent take a look at those staples in your leg, okay?" he took Clay from Sonny because Clay trying to sit up. "Stay put, no need to get up."

"There's a blonde…" Clay began, then frowned. What was he saying? "Ow."

"Sonny got her. Next time you knock her out, you tie her up." Jason reprimanded. "We've been through this. Don't let what happened in Yemen cloud your judgment when it comes to women."

Clay stared at him, wide-eyed at the set down, then went limp. Already holding him up, Jason simply let Clay sag against him.

"Christ, the kid just flop, no notice." Jason juggled Clay's weight until he could free a hand and key in. "Eric? That chopper coming?"

"Working on it?"

"Working….? Five minutes Eric."

"Had to wait on Chopper Chuck."

"Our pilot? Why? Just go with the one on shift."

Chase looked at Mick. Bravo had their own pilot? Wow.

"Negative. No can do. Fog restriction. He doesn't have enough flight hours to fly in this weather."

Jason sighed, rubbed his thumb across his forehead. "Estimated time?"

"They're in the air. Twenty minutes."

"Roger that." he didn't relish keeping Clay out in the cold and mist, but wasn't much they could do about it. They could carry him up to Charlie's campsite, but would the warmth of a fire be worth the painful trek getting Clay there?

"Tr'nt?" Clay slurred, not fighting the hand that kept stopping his from trying to hold his head.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"My….head…..hurts."

"I know it does." Trent chucked Clay's chin sympathetically. "I'll get you something in a minute." He turned away to dig in his backpack. His hands were shaking and he took a moment to calm his nerves. He felt eyes on him, knew it was Jason. He'd been worried Clay wasn't going to come around and respond to them.

"His leg okay?" Brock asked. "Looks like those staples all pulled loose."

Trent shrugged. "Ain't doing anything out here, can't really clean him up."

"Anything I can do?" Bobby asked. Beau had sent him to see if he could help with Clay, but Bobby could see that Trent was more than capable of taking care of any injuries Clay had. "Brought some hot water." He had a sleeping bag, the coffee urn and two thermoses. "Hot coffee."

To anyone walking up, it just looked like Sonny and Jason were holding Clay down because he fought against Trent assessing and tending his injuries. Bravo knew better, but no one would ever say differently.

Five pairs of eyes pinned him with malice, but they all waited on Jason. However their boss reacted is how Bravo would.

Jason said grudgingly. "We're good."

Ray took the thermoses, passed one to Brock. "Trent, he have coffee?" He poured the hot liquid into the lid and handed it to Sonny, Brock did the same for Jason.

"No." he accepted a refill from Brock when Jason had finished and handed the lid back.

"He's gonna want it." Sonny advised. "He'll smell it. Shouldn't he have something hot?"

"I have hot chocolate." Trent handed the cup back to Brock so he could now have a cup, pulled a bottle of water from his backpack. He poured more than half onto a clean cloth and handed it to Jason to hold against the swollen lumpy bump on Clay's forehead again. He pulled a packet and tore it open with his teeth, poured the powdered contents into the water, capped the bottle and shook it up.

"That's not cocoa." Mick said.

"Hot water isn't for drinking." Bobby scowled. "Try using it to clean up the bump on his head."

Clay turned away, facing Jason's shoulder. "Not...thirsty."

"Will help your headache." Trent coaxed. "Then you can have hot chocolate." He added the bribe with a grin.

"What is that?" Chase asked.

"Cambria." Bobby answered. "Commonly given for migraines." He watched Trent tease Clay into looking at him. "And prescription."

"He said they have a doc." Mick reminded him.

"He doesn't have a migraine." Bobby said. "Why would you give it to him?"

Because he doesn't respond to medications the way normal people do. But of course, Trent didn't say that.

"Drink it all Clay." He held the bottle, gave Clay a moment to lick his lips, wipe his chin on Jason's sleeve. "Finish it."

But Clay smelled the coffee and his gaze didn't leave the cup in Ray's hand. "Is...that...coffee?"

"Finish this." Jason said, taking the empty bottle when Clay swallowed the last mouthful with a grimace of both pain and distaste. "How you doing?"

"It time to go?" Clay sighed. "Okay."

"Stay still." Jason scolded, tightening his hold to prevent Clay from sitting up. "You're not going anywhere."

"We can't leave?" Clay squirmed. "Tired." He tried again to raise a hand to his head. Again, Jason stopped him. "Rain sucks."

Trent took the sleeping bag from Bobby, unzipped it, shook it out and Ray and Brock easily picked Clay up, wrapped it completely around him and returned him to Jason's lap. Trent handed Jason the cup of instant hot chocolate to hold so Clay could drink it.

Finally feeling warm, safe, secure, the pain and discomfort now manageable because he wasn't alone and confused, Clay slowly settled down and relaxed. He sipped at the chocolate, tongue licking the tiny, almost non-existent marshmallows from the rim while his teammates shared the remaining thermos lid to finish the coffee, sharing with Mick and Chase as well.

When Clay was finished, Trent used the remaining hot water to wipe the mud and dirt from Clay's cheek, working his way up to his eye, then the oozing gash over his eyebrow.

"I know, I know, easy." Trent murmured when Clay flinched and twitched. "We'll hold you down, you don't lie still and let me finish."

"How's it look?" Jason asked.

"Gonna want an MRI, but once the swelling comes down some, he won't hurt as much." Trent didn't want to pick at the mud-caked scab, afraid he'd start the bleeding again and they all knew how much Clay bled from a head wound, so he left well enough alone. "He'll be okay. He'll fly with us to our next mission, but should stay in barracks." He told Jason who nodded.

"Need a stretcher to carry him?" Bobby asked.

"No." Trent replied. "Chopper will be here soon."

"Chopper?" Bobby repeated. "You're not serious? We all hiked up here, your kid gets a bump and you get a chopper to fly in for him?"

"No need for stealth now." Ray said.

"How did you get a chopper approved in this fog?" Bobby pushed. Beau had talked to command, they'd been told to sit tight and wait for the weather to clear.

"They have a pilot." Mick said sarcastically. "Ain't that right Hayes?"

Jason shrugged. Clay had succumbed to the warmth and privacy of the sleeping bag, the security of Jason's arms. With Clay quiet, still, in his sight - _in his arms_ \- and Trent's confidence and assurance the kid was okay, Jason finally relaxed, pulling the sleeping bag over Clay's head to help protect him from the cold mist.

"There is a pilot on support who has logged enough hours to have the experience to fly a Black Hawk by IRF." Ray stared at Mick. "In this weather, yeah, he had to clear a flight plan first."

"Gear up. Chopper is circling to land." Jason cut in. They could hear it, see its search light. "Sonny, go meet it, bring back a litter. Brock, go get Spenser's gear. You two take him." he told Ray and Trent.

Once on his feet, Sonny and Brock off to do his bidding, Jason turned to the three members of Charlie.

"Don't make me regret not filing a report." he told Mick who finally nodded. "We're done here."

"JASON HAYES!" a voice bellowed. "Good God!" a dog barked. "I see a snake..."

"Hey Doc!" Ray called back in greeting. "Lovely day to take the dog for a walk, don't you think?"

***END***


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